Glass 




■i,-. 



Book,... 



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THE 



PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 




THE PILGRIM PLEADS WITH HIS WIFE AND FAMITY — T 7 



THE 



PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 



FROM THIS WORLD TO THAT WHICH IS TO COME. 



JOHN BUNYAN. 



' I have used similitudes." — Hosea xii. 10. 



Mxi\ gltairriions frmftb- m €olanx» t 

FROM ORIGINAL DESIGNS BY COOPER. 



LOinDON : 
FREDERICK WARNE AND CO. 

BEDFORD STREET, COVENT GARDEN. 
NEW YORK: SCRIBNER, WELFORD, AND CO. 



PR'3330 






BIRTHPLACE OF BUNYAN. 

John Bunyan was born in Elstow, Bedfordshire, in 1628. 
He was of humble parentage, and earned his bread as a 
travelling tinker; but having been taught to read and write, 
and possessing two or three books of his own, he became 
himself a writer, and has left us the finest allegory ever 
written by an uninspired penman. Bunyan was of the sect 
of the Baptists, which at the Restoration became subject to 
the legal pains and penalties imposed by the Government on 
all Dissenters. Meetings at Conventicles, and unlicensed 



vi MEMOIR 

preaching, were punished by loss of property and imprison- 
ment ; and Bunyan being found in the act of commencing 
a sermon to his flock of rustic listeners, was taken up and 
committed to the gaol at Bedford, where he remained in- 
carcerated for twelve years. 




BEDFORD GAOL. 

During his confinement in this miserable prison, which he 
well describes as a "Den," he wrote the "Pilgiim's 
Progress," one of the great national works of which 
Englishmen are justly proud. 

In the year 1672, more tolerant measures were adopted 



MEMOIR. 



by the Government, and an Act of Royal pardon released 
nearly five hundred imprisoned Nonconformists; amongst 
them was John Bunyan, 

He then resumed his pastoral duties and his pen ; and 
while preaching zealously both in Bedford and elsewhere, 
found time to write the Second Part of the "Pilgrim's 
Progress." He died of cold and fever, at Snow Hill, 
London, on the 31st of August, i( 
Bunhill fields., 



and was buried in 




SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF JOHN BUNYAN. 




THF, PILGRIM MEETS MR. WORLDLY WISEMAN- — 1\ 1} 



THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY 

FOR HIS BOOK. 



When at the first I took my pen in hand 
Thus for to write, I did not understand 
That I at all should make a little book 
In such a mode ; nay, I had undertook 
To make another ; which, when almost done, 
Before I was aware, I this begun. 

And thus it was : I, writing of the way 
And race of saints, in this our gospel day, 
Fell suddenly into an allegory 
About their journey, and the way to glory, 
In more than twenty things which I set down. 
This done, I twenty more had in my crown ; 
And they again began to multiply, 
Like sparks that from the coals of fire do fly. 
Nay, then, thought I, if that you breed so fast, 
I'll put you by yourselves, lest you at last 
Should prove ad infinitum, and eat out 
The book that I already am about. 

Well, so 1 did ; but yet I did not think 
To show to all the world my pen and ink 
In such a mode ; I only thought to make 
I knew not what : nor did I undertake 
Thereby to please my neighbour : no, not I. 
I did it my own self to gratify. 

Neither did I but vacant seasons spend 
In this my scribble ; nor did I intend 
But to divert myself in doing this 
From worser thoughts which make me do amiss. 

Thus, I set pen to paper with delight, 
And quickly had my thoughts in black and white; 

B 



THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. 

For, having now my method by the end, 

Still as I pulled, it came : and so I penned 

It down : until it came at last to be, 

For length and breadth, the bigness which you see. 

Well, when I had thus put my ends together, 
I showed them others, that I might see whether 
They would condemn them, or them justify : 
And some said, Let them live : some, Let them die; 
Some said, John, print it ; others said, Not so ; 
Some said, It might do good ; others said, No. 

Now was I in a strait, and did not see 
Which was the best thing to be done by me : 
At last I thought, Since you are thus divided, 
I print it will, and so the case decided. 

For, thought I, some, I see, would have it done, 
Though others in that channel do not run : 
To prove, then, who advised for the best, 
Thus I thought fit to put it to the test. 

I further thought, if now I did deny 
Those that would have it, thus to gratify ; 
I did not know but hinder them I might 
Of that which would to them be great delight. 

For those which were not for its coming forth, 
I said to them, Offend you I am loath, 
Yet, since your brethren pleased with it be, 
Forbear to judge till you do further see. 

If that thou wilt not read, let it alone ; 
Some love the meat, some love to pick the bone. 
Yea, that I might them better moderate, 
I did too with them thus expostulate : — 

May I not write in such a style as this? 
In such a method, too, and yet not miss 
My end — thy good ? Why may it not be done ? 
Dark clouds bring waters, when the bright bring none. 
Yea, dark or bright, if they their silver drops 
Cause to descend, the earth, by yielding crops 
Gives praise to both, and carpeth not at either, 
But treasures up the fruit they yield together ; 
Yea, so commixes both, that in her fruit 
None can distinguish this from that : they suit 
Her well when hungry ; but, if she be full, 
She spews out both, and makes their blessings null. 



THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. 

You see the ways the fisherman doth take 
To catch the fish ; what engines doth he make ! 
Behold how he engageth all his wits ; 
Also his snares, lines, angles, hooks, and nets ; 
Yet fish there be, that neither hook, nor line, 
Nor snare, nor net, nor engine can make thine : 
They must be groped for, and be tickled too, 
Or they will not be catch'd, whate'er you do. 

How does the fowler seek to catch his game ? 
By divers means ! all which one cannot name : 
His guns, his nets, his lime-twigs, light, and bell ; 
He creeps, he goes, he stands ; yea, who can tell 
Of all his postures ? Yet there's none of these 
Will make him master of what fowls he please. 
Yea, he must pipe and whistle to catch this; 
Yet, if he does so, that bird he will miss. 

If that a pearl may in a toad's head dwell, 
And may be found too in an oyster-shell ; 
If things that promise nothing do contain 
What better is than gold ; who will disdain, 
That have an inkling of it, there to look, 
That they may find it ? Now, my little book 
(Though void of all these paintings* that may make 
It with this or the other man to take) 
Is not without those things that do excel 
What do in brave but empty notions dwell. 

' ' Well, yet I am not fully satisfied, 
That this your book will stand, when soundly tried." 

Why, what's the matter? "It is dark. " What though? 
* ' But it is feigned. " What of that ? I trow 
Some men, by feigned words, as dark as mine, 
Make truth to spangle and its rays to shine. 
" But they want solidness." Speak, man, thy mind. 
4t They drown the weak ; metaphors make us blind." 

Solidity, indeed, becomes the pen 
Of him that writeth things divine to men ; 
But must I needs want solidness, because 
By metaphors I speak? Were not God's laws, 
His gospel laws, in olden times held forth 
By types, shadows, and metaphors ? Yet loath 

* Void of ornaments of style. 

B2 



THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. 

Will any sober man be to find fault 
With them, lest he be found for to assault 
The highest wisdom. No, he rather stoops, 
And seeks to find out what by pins and loops, 
By calves and sheep, by heifers and by rams, 
By birds and herbs, and by the blood of lambs, 
God speaketh to him ; and happy is he 
That finds the light and grace that in them be. 

Be not too forward, therefore, to conclude, 
That I want solidness— that I am rude ; 
All things solid in show not solid be ; 
All things in parables despise not we ; 
Lest things most hurtful lightly we receive, 
And things that good are, of our souls bereave. 
My dark and cloudy words, they do but hold 
The truth, as cabinets enclose the gold. 

The prophets used much by metaphors 
To set forth truth ; yea, whoso considers 
Christ, his apostles too, shall plainly see, 
That truths to this day in such mantles be. 

Am I afraid to say, that holy writ. 
Which for its^style and phrase puts down all wit, 
Is everywhere so full of all these things — 
Dark figures, allegories ? Yet there springs 
From that same Book that lustre, and those rays 
Of light, that turn our darkest nights to days. 

Come, let my carper to his life now look, 
And find there darker lines than in my book 
He findeth any ; yea, and let him know, 
That in his best things there are worse lines too. 

May we but stand before impartial men, 
To his poor one I dare adventure ten, 
That they will take my meaning in these lines 
Far better than his lies in silver shrines. 
Come, truth, although in swaddling clouts, I find, 
Informs the judgment, rectifies the mind ; 
Pleases the understanding, makes the will 
Submit ; the memory too it doth fill 
With what doth our imaginations please ; 
Likewise it tends our troubles to appease. 

Sound words, I know, Timothy is to use, 
And old wives' fables he is to refuse ; 



THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. 

But yet grave Paul him nowhere did forbid 

The use of parables ; in which lay hid 

That gold, those pearls, and precious stones that were 

Worth digging for, and that with greatest care. 

Let me add one word more. O man of God, 

Art thou offended ? Dost thou wish I had 

Put forth my matter in another dress ? 

Or, that I had in things been more express ? 

Three things let me propound; then I submit 

To those that are my betters, as is fit. 

i. I find not that I am denied the use 
Of this my method, so I no abuse 
Put on the words, things, readers; or be rude 
In handling figure or similitude, 
In application; but, all that I may, 
Seek the advance of truth this or that way; 
Denied, did I say? Nay, I have leave 
(Example, too, and that from them that have 
God better pleased, by their words or ways, 
Than any man that breatheth now-a-days) 
Thus to express my mind, thus to declare 
Things unto thee that excellentest are. 

2. I find that men (as high as trees) will write 
Dialogue-wise; yet no man doth them slight 
For writing so: indeed, if they abuse 

Truth, cursed be they, and the craft they use 
To that intent; but yet let truth be free 
To make her sallies upon thee and me, 
Which way it pleases God ; for who knows how, 
Better than He that taught us first to plough, 
To guide our mind and pens for His design ? 
And He makes base things usher in divine. 

3. I find that holy writ in many places 

Hath semblance with this method, where the case 

Do call for one thing, to set forth another; 

Use it I may, then, and yet nothing smother 

Truth's golden beams: nay, by this method may 

Make it cast forth its rays as light as day. 

And now before 1 do put up my pen, 

I'll show the profit of my book, and then 

Commit both thee and it unto that Hand 

That pulls the strong down, and makes weak ones stand. 



THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. 

This book it cbalketh out before mine eyes 

The man that seeks the everlasting prize; 

It shows you whence he comes, whither he goes; 

What he leaves undone, also what he does ; 

It also shows you how he runs and runs, 

Till he unto the gate of glory comes. 

It shows, too, who set out for life amain, 

As if the lasting crown they would obtain ; 

Here also you may see the reason why 

They lose their labour, and like fools do die. 

This book will make a traveller of thee, 

If by its counsel thou wilt ruled be; 

It will direct thee to the Holy Land, 

If thou wilt its directions understand: 

Yea, it will make the slothful active be; 

The blind also delightful things to see. 

Art thou for something rare and profitable ? 

Wouldest thou see a truth within a fable? 

Art thou forgetful ? Wouldest thou remember 

From New Year's day to the last of December? 

Then read my fancies; they will stick like burs, 

And may be, to the helpless, comforters. 

This book is writ in such a dialect 
As may the minds of listless men affect: 
It seems a novelty, and yet contains 
Nothing but sound and honest gospel strains. 

Wouldst thou divert thyself from melancholy ? 
Wouldst thou be pleasant, yet be far from folly ? 
Wouldst thou read riddles, and their explanation ? 
Or else be drowned in thy contemplation? 
Dost thou love picking meat ? Or wouldst thou see 
A man 1' the clouds, and hear him speak to thee? 
Wouldst thou be in a dream, and yet not sleep? 
Or wouldst thou in a moment laugh and weep? 
Wouldest thou lose thyself and catch no harm, 
And find thyself again without a charm ? 
Wouldst read thyself, and read thou knowest not what, 
And yet know whether thou art blest or not, 
By reading the same lines ? Oh, then come hither, 
And lay my book, thy head, and heart together. 

JOHN BUNVAN. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 



IN THE SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM. 



AS I walked through the wilderness of this world, I lighted on a 
certain place where was a Den, and I laid me 
down in that place to sleep : and, as I slept, I Bedford.** 
dreamed a dream. I dreamed, and behold, I saw a 
man clothed with rags, standing in a certain place, with his face 
from his own house, a book in his hand, and a great burden upon 
his back.* I looked, and saw him open the book and read therein ; 
and, as lie read, he wept, and trembled; and not being able longer 
to contain, he brake out with a lamentable cry, saying, "What shall 
I do?"t 

In this plight, therefore, he went home and refrained himself as long 
as he could, that his wife and children should not perceive his distress ; 
but he could not be silent long, because that his trouble increased. 
Wherefore at length he brake his mind to his wife and children ; 
and thus he began to talk to them. O my dear wife, said he, and 
you the children of my bowels, I, your dear friend, am in myself 
undone by reason of a burden that lieth hard upon me ; moreover, I 
am for certain informed that this our city will be burned with fire 
from heaven ;$ in which fearful overthrow, both myself, with thee, my 
wife, and you my sweet babes, shall miserably come to ruin, except 
(the which yet I see not) some way of escape can be found, whereby 
we may be delivered. § At this his relations were sore amazed ; not 
for that they believed that what he had said to them was true, but 
because they thought that some frenzy distemper had got into his 
head ; therefore, it drawing towards night, and they hoping that 
sleep might settle his brains, with all haste they got him to bed. But 

*Isa. lxiv. 6; Luke xiv. 33; Psa. xxxviii. 4; Heb. xii. 1. 
t Acts ii. 37 ; xvi. 3c, 31. J 2 Pet. iii. 10. $ Romans yii. 24. 



8 E VANGELIS T HELPS CHRIS TIAN. 

the night was as troublesome to him as the day ; wherefore, instead 
of sleeping, he spent it in sighs and tears. So, when the morning 
was come, they would know how he did. He told them, Worse and 
worse : he also set to talking to them again : but they began to be 
hardened. They also thought to drive away his distemper by harsh 
and surly carriages to him; sometimes they would deride, sometimes 
they would chide, and sometimes they would quite neglect him. 
Wherefore he began to retire himself to his chamber, to pray for and 
pity them, and also to condole his own misery ; he would also walk 
solitarily in the fields, sometimes reading, and sometimes praying : 
and thus for some days he spent his time. 

Now, I saw, upon a time, when he was walking in the fields, that 
he was, as he was wont, reading in his book, and greatly distressed 
in his mind; and as he read, he burst out, as he had done before, 
crying, "What shall I do to be saved?"* 

I saw also that he looked this way and that way, as if he would 
run; yet he stood still, because, as I perceived, he could not tell 
which way to go. I looked then, and saw a man named Evangelist 
coming to him, who asked, Wherefore dost thou cry? 

He answered, Sir, I perceive by the book in my hand that I am 
condemned to die, and after that to come to judgment,! ar >d I find 
that I am not willing to do the first, J nor able to do the second. § 

" Christian no sooner leaves the World but meets 
Evangelist, who lovingly him greets 
With tidings of another ; and doth show 
Him how to mount from that which is below." 

Then said Evangelist, Why not willing to die, since this life is 
attended with so many evils ? The man answered, Because I fear 
that this burden that is upon my back will sink me lower than the 
grave, and I shall fall into Tophet.|[ And, sir, if I be not fit to go 
to prison, I am not fit, I am sure, to go to judgment, and from 
thence to execution ; and the thoughts of these things make me cry. 

Then said Evangelist, If this be thy condition, why standest thou 
still? He answered, Because I know not whither to go. Then he 
gave him a parchment roll, and there was written within, "Flee 
from the wrath to come. "If 

The man therefore, read it, and looking upon Evangelist very 
carefully, said, Whither must I fly ? Then said Evangelist, pointing 
with his finger over a very wide field, Uo you see yonder wicket- 
gate?** The man said, No. Then said the other, Do you see 

• Acts xvi. 30. t Heb. ix. 27. % Job xvi. 21. § Ezek. xxii. 14 ; Malachi iii. 2. 
U Isa. xxx. 33. f Matt. iii. 7. •♦ Matt. vii. 13, 14. 




THE PILGRIM MEETS EVANGELIST. V. 



CHRISTIAN'S FLIGHT. 9 

yonder shining light ?* He said, I think I do. Then said Evan- 
gelist, Keep that light in your eye, and go up directly thereto : 
so shalt thou see the Gate; at which, when thou CHRIST andthe 
knockest, it shall be told thee what thou shalt do. way to h'inicannot 

) I saw in my dream that the man began to run. be found without 
Now, he had not run far from his own door, but * e or ' 
his wife and children, perceiving it, began to cry after him to return; 
but the man put his fingers in his ears, and ran on, crying, Life ! 
Life ! eternal life !f So he looked not behind him, but fled towards 
the middle of the plain. { 

The neighbours also came out to see him run,§ and, as he ran, 
some mocked, others threatened, and some cried after him to return; 
and, among those that did so, there were two that resolved to fetch 
him back by force. The name of the one was Obstinate, and the 
name of the other Pliable. Now, by this time, the man was got a 
good distance from them; but, however, they were resolved to pursue 
him, which they did, and in a little time they overtook him. Then 
said the man, Neighbours, wherefore are ye come? They said, To 
persuade you to go back with us. But he said, That can by no 
means be ; you dwell, said he, in the City of Destruction, the place 
also where I was born : I see it to be so ; and dying there, sooner or 
later, you will sink lower than the grave, into a place that burns 
with fire and brimstone : be content, good neighbours, and go along 
with me. 

Obst. What ! said Obstinate, and leave our friends and our com- 
forts behind us? 

Chr. Yes, said Christian (for that was his name), because that all 
which you shall forsake is not worthy to be compared with a little 
of that which I am seeking to enjoy, || and if you will go along with 
me, and hold it, you shall fare as I myself ; for there, where I go, 
is enough and to spare. ^[ Come away, and prove my words. 

Obst. What are the things you seek, since you leave all the world 
to find them ? 

Chr. I seek an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that 
fadeth not away,** and it is laid up in heaven, and safe there, ff to be 
bestowed, at the time appointed, on them that diligently seek it, 
Read it so, if you will, in my book. 

Obst. Tush ! said Obstinate, away with your book ; will you go 
back with us or no ? 

Chr. No, not I, said the other, because I have laid my hand to 
the plough. # 

* Psa. cxix. 105 ; 2 Pet. i. 19. t Luke xiv. 26. % Gen. xix. 17. $ Jer. xx. 10. 
2 Cor. iv. 17. % Luke xv. 17. ** 1 Pet. i. 4. ft Heb. xi. 16. $'$ Luke ix. 62. 



io OBSTINATE AND PLIABLE. 

Obst. Come, then, neighbour Pliable, let us turn again, and go 
home without him ; there is a company of these crazy-headed 
coxcombs, that, when they take a fancy by the end, are wiser in their 
own eyes than seven men that can render a reason. 

Plt. Then said Pliable, Don't revile ; if what the good Christian 
says is true, the things he looks after are better than ours : my heart 
inclines to go with my neighbour. 

Obst. What ! more fools still ! Be ruled by me, and go back ; 
who knows whither such a brain-sick fellow will lead you? Go 
back, go back, and be wise. 

Chr. Nay, but do thou come with thy neighbour, Pliable ; there 
are such things to be had which I spoke of, and many more glories 
besides. If you believe not me, read here in this book ; and for the 
truth of what is expressed therein, behold all is confirmed by the 
blood of Him that made it.* 

Pli. Well, neighbour Obstinate, said Pliable, I begin to come to 
a point ; I intend to go along with this good man, and to cast in my 
lot with him : but, my good companion, do you know the way to 
this desired place ? 

Chr. I am directed by a man, whose name is Evangelist, to speed 
me to a little gate that is before us, where we shall receive instruc- 
tions about the way. 

Pli. Come, then, good neighbour, let us be going. Then they 
went both together. 

Obst. And I will go back to my place, said Obstinate ; I will be 
no companion of such misled, fantastical fellows. 

Now, I saw in my dream, that, when Obstinate was gone back, 
Christian and Pliable went talking over the plain ; and thus they 
began their discourse. 

Chr. Come, neighbour Pliable, how do you do? I am glad you 
are persuaded to go along with me. Had even Obstinate himself 
but felt what I have felt of the powers and terrors of what is \et 
unseen, he would not thus lightly have given us the back. 

Pli. Come, neighbour Christian, since there are none but us two 
here, tell me now further what the things are, and how to be enjoyed, 
whither we are going. 

Chr. I can better conceive of them with my mind, than speak of 
God's things un- them with my tongue : but yet, since you are desi- 
speakabie. rous to know, I will read of them in my book. 

Pli. And do you think that the words of your book are certainly 
true ? 

Chr. Yes, verily ; for it was made by Him that cannot lie.f 

* Heb. ix. 17—22; t Tit. i. 2. 



THE SLOUGH OF DESPOND. n 

PLI. Well said ; what things are they ? , _ 

Chr. There is an endless kingdom to be inhabited, and everlasting 
life to be given us, that we may inhabit that kingdom for ever.* 

Pli. Well said ; and what else ? 

Chr. There are crowns of glory to be given us, and garments 
that will make us shine like the sun in the firmament of heaven. f 

Pli. This is very pleasant ; and what else? 

Chr. There shall be no more crying, nor sorrow : for He that is 
owner of the place will wipe all tears from our eyes.* 

Pli. And what company shall we have there ? 

Chr. There we shall be with seraphims and cherubims, creatures 
that will dazzle your eyes to look on them. § There also you shall 
meet with thousands and tens of thousands that have gone before us 
to that place ; none of them are hurtful, but loving and holy ; every 
one walking in the sight of God, and standing in his presence with 
acceptance for ever.|| In a word, there we shall see the elders with 
their golden crowns ;% there we shall see the holy virgins with their 
golden harps ;** there we shall see men that by the world were cut m 
pieces, burnt in flames, eaten of beasts, drowned in the seas, for the 
love that they bare to the Lord of the place, all well, and clothed 
with immortality as with a garment, ff 

Pli. The hearing of this is enough to ravish one s heart. But 
are these things to be enjoyed? How shall we get to be sharers 

thereof? , , -,,.-,. 

Chr. The Lord, the Governor of the country, hath recorded that 
5n this book ; the substance of which is, If we be truly willing to 
have it, he will bestow it upon us freely. tt 

Pli. Well, my good companion, glad am I to hear of these 
things : come on, let us mend our pace. 

Chr. I cannot go so fast as I would, by reason of this burden 
that is on my back. , , 

Now, I saw in my dream, that just as they had ended this talk 
they drew near to a very miry slough, that was in the midst of the 
plain ; and thev, being heedless, did both fall suddenly into the bog. 
The name of the slough was Despond. Here, therefore, they wal- 
lowed for a time, being grievously bedaubed with the dirt ; and 
Christian, because of the burden that was on his back, began to sink 
in the mire. . 

Pli. Then said Pliable, Ah I neighbour Christian, where are 
you now ? 

* Isa. xlv. 17 ; Tohn x. 27-29. t 2 Tim. iv. 8 ; Daniel, xii. 3; Rev. xxii. 5 ; Matt xiii. 43. 

% Isa. xxv. 8 Rev. vii. 16, 17 ; xxi. 4. h Isa. vi. 2. || 1 Thess. iv .16, 17 , Rev. v. iu 

If Rev. iv. 4. ** Rev. xiv. 1—5. ++ John xii. 25 ; 2 Cor. v. 1—4. 

Xt Isa. Iv. 1, 2 ; John vi. 37 ; vii. 37 \ R ^v. xxi. 6 ; xxii. 17. 



iz PLIABLE GOES BACK'. 

Chr. Truly, said Christian, I do not know. 

Pli. At this Pliable began to be offended, and angrily said to his 
fellow. Is this the happiness you have told me all this while of? If 
we have such ill speed at our first setting out, what may we expect 
betwixt this and our journey's end ? May I get out again with my 
life, you shall possess the brave country alone for me. And, with 
that, he gave a desperate struggle or two, and got out of the mire 
on that side of the slough which was next to his own house ; so away 
he went, and Christian saw him no more.* 

Wherefore Christian was left to tumble in the Slough of Despond 
alone : but still he endeavoured to struggle to that side of the 
slough that was still further from his own house, and next to the 
wicket-gate ; the which he did, but could not get out, because of 
the burden that was upon his back : but I beheld in my dream, that 
a man came to him, whose name was Help, and asked him, what 
he did there ? 

Chr. Sir, said Christian, I was bid go this way by a man called 
Evangelist, who directed me also to yonder gate, that I might escape 
the wrath to come ; and as I was going thither I fell in here. 

. Help. But why did not you look for the steps ? 

Chr. Fear followed me so hard, that I fled the 
next way, and fell in. 

Help. Then said he, Give me thy hand : so he gave him his 
hand, and he drew him out, and set him upon sound ground, and 
bid him go on his way.t 

Then I stepped to him that plucked him out, and said, Sir, 
Wherefore, since over this place is the way from the City of Destruc- 
tion to yonder gate, is it that this plat is not mended, that poor 
travellers might go thither with more security ? And he said unto 
me, This miry slough is such a place as cannot be mended ; it is 
the descent whither the scum and filth that attends conviction for sin 
doth continually run, and therefore it is called the Slough of De- 
spond ; for still, as the sinner is awakened about his lost condition, 
there ariseth in his soul many fears, and doubts, and discouraging 
apprehensions, which all of them get together, and settle in this 
place. And this is the reason of the badness of this ground. 

It is not the pleasure of the King that this place should remain so 
bad. J His labourers also have, by the direction of His Majesty's 
surveyors, been for above these sixteen hundred years§ employed 
about this patch of ground, if perhaps it might have been mended : 
yea, and to my knowledge, said he, here have been swallowed up at 

* Gen. xlix. 4. t Psa. xl. ? ; Eccles. iv. 9. 10. % Isa. xxxv. 3, 4. 

$ The Pilgrim's Progress is believed to have been written about 1667—8. 



PLIABLE A T HOME. 1 3 

least twenty thousand cart-loads, yea, millions of wholesome instruc- 
tions, that have at all seasons been brought from all places of the 
King's dominions, and they that can tell, say they are the best 
materials to make good ground of the place ; if so be, it might have 
been mended, but it is the Slough of Despond still, and so will be 
when they have done what they can. 

True, there are, by the direction of the Lawgiver, certain good 
and substantial steps, placed even through the very The romise f 
midst of this slough ; but at such time as this place forgiveness and 
doth much spew out its filth, as it doth against acceptance to life 
change of weather, these steps are hardly seen ; or, y m nst * 
if they be, men, through the dizziness of their heads, step beside, 
and then they are bemired to purpose, notwithstanding the steps 
be there ; but the ground is good when they are once got in at the 
gate.* 

Now, I saw in my dream, that by this time Pliable was got home 
to his house again, so that his neighbours came to visit him ; and 
some of them called him wise man for coming back, and some called 
him fool for hazarding himself with Christian : others again did 
mock at his cowardliness ; saying, Surely, since you began to 
venture, I would not have been so base to have given out for a few 
difficulties. So Pliable sat sneaking among them. But at last he got 
more confidence, and then they all turned their tales, and began to 
deride poor Christian behind his back. And thus much concerning 
Pliable. 

Now, as Christian was walking solitarily by himself, he espied one 
afar off, come crossing over the field to meet> him ; and their hap 
was to meet just as they were crossing the way of each other. The 
gentleman's name that met him was Mr. Worldly 
Wiseman : he dwelt in the town of Carnal Policy, a Mr - Worldly wise- 
very great town, and also hard-by from whence christian. 5 WI 
Christian came. This man, then, meeting with 
Christian, and having some inkling of him, — for Christian's setting 
forth from the City of Destruction was much noised abroad, not only 
in the town where he dwelt, but also it began to be the town talk in 
some other places, — Mr. Worldly Wiseman, therefore, having some 
guess of him, by beholding his laborious going, by observing his 
sighs and groans, and the like, began thus to enter into some talk 
with Christian. 

World. How now, good fellow, whither away after this burdened 
manner? 

Chr, A burdened manner, indeed, as ever, I think, poor crea- 

* 1 Sam. xii. 22, 23. 



i 4 WORLDLY WISEMAN'S ADVICE. 

ture had ! And whereas you ask me, Whither away ? I tell you, 
Sir, I am going" to yonder wicket-gate before me ; for there, as I am 
informed, I shall be put into a way to be rid of my heavy burden. 

'World. Hast thou a wife and children ? 

Chr. Yes ; but I am so laden with this burden, that I cannot 
take that pleasure in them as formerly ; methinks I am as if I had 
none.* 

World. Wilt thou hearken unto me if I give thee counsel ? 

Chr. If it be good, I will ; for I stand in need of good counsel. 

World. I would advise thee, then, that thou with all speed get 
thyself rid of thy burden ; for thou wilt never be settled in thy mind 
till then ; nor can'st thou enjoy the benefits of the blessing which 
God hath bestowed upon thee till then. 

Chr. That is that which I seek for, even to be rid of this heavy 
burden ; but get it off myself, I cannot ; nor is there any man in our 
country that can take it off my shoulders ; therefore am I going this 
way, as I told you, that I may be rid of my burden. 

World. Who bid thee go this way to be rid of thy burden ? 

Chr. A man that appeared to me to be a very great and honour- 
able person ; his name, as I remember, is Evangelist. 

World. I beshrew him for his counsel ! there is not a more 
dangerous and troublesome way in the world than is that unto which 
he hath directed thee ; and that thou shalt find, if thou will be ruled 
by his counsel. Thou hast met with something, as I perceive 
already ; for I see the dirt of the Slough of Despond is upon thee ; 
but that slough is the beginning of the sorrows that do attend those 
that go on in that way. Hear me ; I am older than thou ; thou art 
like to meet with, on the way which thou goest, wearisomeness, 
painfulness, hunger, perils, nakedness, sword, lions, dragons, dark- 
ness, and, in a word, death, and what not ! These things are cer- 
tainly true, having been confirmed by many testimonies. And why 
should a man so carelessly cast away himself, by giving heed to a 
stranger ? 

Chr. Why, Sir, this burden upon my back is more terrible to me 

than are all these things which you have mentioned ; 

The frame of the nav> methinks I care not what I meet with in the 

Christian? >0unS way, if so be I can also meet with deliverance from 

my burden. 

W T ORLD. How earnest thou by the burden at first? 

Chr. By reading this book in my hand. 

World. I thought so ; and it is happened unto thee as to other 
weak men, who, meddling with things too high for them, do sud- 

* i Cor. Yii. 29. 



CHRISTIAN DECEIVED. 15 

denly fall into thy distractions ; which distractions do not only unman 
men (as thine, I perceive, have done thee), but they run them upon 
desperate adventures to obtain they know not what. 

Chr. I know what I would obtain : it is ease from my heavy 
burden. 

World. But why wilt thou seek for ease this way, seeing so 
many dangers attend it ? especially since, hadst thou but patience to 
hear me, I could direct thee to the obtaining of what thou desirest, 
without the dangers that thou in this way wilt run thyself into ; yea, 
and the remedy is at hand. Besides, I will add, that, instead of 
those - dangers, thou shalt meet with much safety, friendship, and 
content. 

Chr. Pray, Sir, open this secret to me. 

World. Why, in yonder village — the village is named Morality — 
there dwells a gentleman whose name is Legality, a very judicious 
man (and a man of a very good name), that has skill to help men off 
with such burdens as thine are from their shoulders : yea, to my 
knowledge, he hath done a great deal of good this way ; ay, and 
besides, he hath skill to cure those that are somewhat crazed in their 
wits with their burdens. To him, as I said, thou mayest go, and be 
helped presently. His house is not quite a mile from this place, and 
if he should not be at home himself, he hath a pretty young man to 
his son, whose name is Civility, that can do it (to speak on) as well 
as the old gentleman himself ; there, I say, thou mayest be eased 
of thy burden ; and if thou art not minded to go back to thy former 
habitation, as, indeed, I would not wish thee, thou mayest send for 
thy wife and children to thee to this village, where there are houses 
now stand empty, one of which thou mayest have at reasonable 
rates ; provision is there also cheap and good ; and that which will 
make thy life the more happy is, to be sure, there thou shalt live by 
honest neighbours, in credit and good fashion. 

Now was Christian somewhat at a stand ; but presently he con- 
cluded, if this be true, which this gentleman hath said, my wisest 
course is to take his advice ; and with that he thus further spoke. 

Chr. Sir, which is my way to this honest man's house ? 

World. Do you see vonder high hill ? L _. . 

^, ,,. J ti J Q Mount Sinai. 

Chr. Yes, very well. 

World. By that hill you must go, and the first house you come 
at is his. 

So Christian turned out of his way to go to Mr. Legality's house 
for help ; but, behold, when he was got now hard by the hill, it 
seemed so high, and also that side of it that was next the wayside, 
did hang so much over, that Christian was afraid to venture further, 



1 6 E VANGELIS T RE PRO VES HIM. 

lest the hill should fall on his head ; wherefore there he stood still, 
and wotted not what to do. Also his burden now seemed heavier to 
him than while he was in his way. There came also flashes of fire 
out of the hill, that made Christian afraid that he should be burned.* 
Here, therefore, he sweat and did quake for fear.f 

When Christians unto carnal men give ear. 
Out of their way they go, and pay for 't dear; 
For Master Worldly Wiseman can but show 
A saint the way to bondage and to woe. 

And now he began to be sorry that he had taken Mr. Worldly 
Wiseman's counsel. And with that he saw Evangelist coming to 
meet him ; at the sight also of whom he began to blush for shame. 
So Evangelist drew nearer and nearer ; and coming up to him, he 
looked upon him with a severe and dreadful countenance, and thus 
began to reason with Christian. 

Evan. What dost thou here, Christian ? said he : at which 
words Christian knew not what to answer ; wherefore at present he 
stood speechless before him. Then said Evangelist further, Art not 
thou the man that I found crying without the walls of the City of 
Destruction ? 

Chr. Yes, dear Sir, I am the man. 

PIvan. Did not I direct thee the way to the little wicket-gate? 

Chr. Yes, dear Sir, said Christian. 

Evan. How is it, then, that thou art so quickly turned aside ? for 
thou art now out of the way. 

Chr. 1 met with a gentleman so soon as I had got over the 
Slough of Despond, who persuaded me that I might, in the village 
before me, find a man that could take off my burden. 

Evan. What was he? 

Chr. He looked like a gentleman, and talked much to me, and 
got me at last to yield ; so I came hither : but when I beheld this 
hill, and how it hangs over the way, I suddenly made a stand, lest it 
should fall on my head. 

Evan. What said that gentleman to you? 

Chr. Why he asked me whither I was going? And I told him. 

Evan. And what said he then ? 

Chr. He asked me if I had a family? And I told him. But, 
said I, I am so loaden with the burden that is on my back, that I 
cannot take pleasure in them as formerly. 

Evan. And what said he then ? 

Chr. He bid me with speed get rid of my burden ; and I told 

Ex. six. 16, 18. t Heb. xii. 21. 




PASSION AND PATIENCE. — 'P. ?.$< 



CHRISTIAN'S REPENTANCE. 17 

him it was ease that I sought. And, said I, I am therefore going 
to yonder gate, to receive further direction how I may get to the 
place of deliverance. So he said that he would show me a better 
way, and short, not so attended with difficulties as the way, Sir, that 
you set me in ; which way, said he, will direct you to a gentleman's 
house that hath skill to take off* these burdens, so I believed him, 
and turned out of that way into this, if haply I might be soon eased 
of my burden. But when I came to this place, and beheld things as 
they are, I stopped for fear (as I said) of danger : but I now know 
not what to do. 

Evan. Then, said Evangelist, stand still a little, that I may show 
thee the words of God. So he stood trembling. Then said Evan- 
gelist, ■ ' See that ye refuse not him that speaketh. For if they 
escaped not who refused him that spake on earth, much more shall 
not we escape, if we turn away from him that speaketh from heaven."* 
He said, moreover, " Now the just shall live by faith : but if any 
man draw back, my soul shall have no pleasure in him."t He also 
did thus apply them : Thou art the man that art running into this 
misery ; thou hast begun to reject the counsel of the Most High, 
and to draw back thy foot from the way of peace, even almost to 
the hazarding of thy perdition. 

Then Christian fell down at his foot as dead, crying, " Woe is me, 
for I am undone !" At the sight of which, Evangelist caught him 
by the right hand, saying, "All manner of sin and blasphemies 
shall be forgiven unto men."t "Be not faithless, but believing. ! '§ 
Then did Christian again a little revive, and stood up trembling, as 
at first, before Evangelist. 

Then Evangelist proceeded, saying, Give more earnest heed to the 
things that I shall tell thee of. I will now show thee who it was that 
deluded thee, and who it was also to whom he sent thee. — The man 
that met thee is one Worldly Wiseman, and rightly is he so called ; 
partly, because he savoureth only of the doctrine of this world, i; 
(therefore he always goes to the town of Morality to church) : and 
partly because he loveth that doctrine best, for it saveth him from 
the Cross. if And because he is of this carnal temper, therefore he 
seeketh to prevent my ways, though right. Now there are three 
things in this man's counsel, that thou must utterly abhor. 

i. His turning thee out of the way. 2. His labouring to render 
the cross odious to thee. And, 3. His setting thy feet in that way 
that leadeth unto the administration of death. 

First, thou must abhor his turning thee out of the way ; and thine 

* Hcb. xii. 25. I t Heb. x. 38. \ Matt. xii. 31 ; Mark in. 28 ; Luke xii. 10 ; Heb. vi 4. 
^ John xx. 27. A 1 John iv. 5. % Gal. vi. 12. 

c 



1 8 TEA CHUNG OF E VANGELIS T. 

own consenting thereto : because this is to reject the counsel of God 
for the sake of the counsel of a Worldly Wiseman. The Lord says, 
" Strive to enter in at the strait gate,"* the gate to which I send 
thee ; for "strait is the gate that leadeth unto life, and few there be 
that find it."t From this little wicket-gate, and from the way thereto, 
hath this wicked man turned thee, to the bringing of thee almost to 
destruction ; hate, therefore, his turning thee out of the way, and 
abhor thyself for hearkening to him. 

Secondly, Thou must abhor his labouring to render the cross 
odious unto thee ; for thou art to prefer it " before the treasures in 
Egypt. "J Besides, the King of glory hath told thee, that he that 
" Will save his life shall lose it. "§ And, " He that cometh after me, 
and hateth not his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and 
brethren, and sisters, yea, and his own life also, he cannot be my 
disciple. "|| I say, therefore, for man to labour to persuade thee, 
that that shall be thy death, without which, the truth hath said, 
thou canst not have eternal life ; this doctrine thou must abhor. 

Thirdly, Thou must hate his setting of thy feet in the way that 
leadeth to the ministration of death. And for this thou must con- 
sider to whom he sent thee, and also how unable that person was to 
deliver thee from thy burden. 

He to whom thou wast sent for ease, being by name Legality, is 
the son of the bond-woman which now is, and is in bondage with 
her children \% and is, in a mystery, this mount Sraai, which thou 
hast feared will fall on thy head. Now, if she, with her children, 
are in bondage, how canst thou expect by them to be made free? 
This Legality, therefore, is not able to set thee free from thy burden. 
No man was as yet ever rid of his burden by him ; no, nor ever is 
like to be : ye cannot be justified by the works of the law ; for by 
the deeds of the law no man living can be rid of his burden : there- 
fore, Mr. Worldly Wiseman is an alien, and Mr. Legality is a cheat ; 
and for his son Civility, notwithstanding his simpering looks, he is 
but a hypocrite, and cannot help thee. Believe me, there is nothing 
in all this noise, that thou hast heard of these sottish men, but a 
design to beguile thee of thy salvation, by turning thee from the way 
in which I had set thee. After this, Evangelist called aloud to the 
heavens for confirmation of what he had said : and with that there 
came words and fire out of the mountain under which poor Chris- 
tian stood, that made the hair of his flesh stand up. The words 
were thus pronounced : "As many as are of the works of the law 
are under the curse ; for it is written, Cursed is every one that con- 

* Luke xiii. 24. + Matt vii. 13, 14. X Hob. xi. 25. 26. 

$ Mark viii. 35 ; John xii. 25 ; Matt. x. 99. Luke xiv. 26. «j Gal. iv. 21—27. 



THE WICKET-GATE. 19 

tinueth not in all things which are written in the book of the law to 
do them."* 

Now Christian looked for nothing but death, and began to cry 
out lamentably ; even cursing the time in which he met with Mr. 
Worldly Wiseman ; still calling himself a thousand fools for heark- 
ening to his counsel : he also was greatly ashamed to think that this 
gentleman's arguments, flowing only from the flesh, should have the 
prevalency with him as to cause him to forsake the right way. This 
done, he applied himself again to Evangelist in words and sense as 
follow : — 

Chr. Sir, what think you? Is there hope? May I now go back 
and go up to the wicket-gate ? Shall I not be abandoned for this, 
and sent back from thence ashamed ? I am sorry I have hearkened 
to this man's counsel. But may my sin be forgiven ? 

Evan. Then said Evangelist to him, Thy sin is very great, for by 
it thou hast committed two evils : thou hast forsaken the way that is 
good, to tread in forbidden paths ; yet will the man 
at the gate receive thee, for he has good-will for ^fSs* him. m " 
men • only, said he, take heed that thou turn not 
aside again, " lest thou perish from the way, when his wrath is kin- 
dled but a little."! Then did Christian address himself to go back ; 
and Evangelist, after he had kissed him, gave him one smile, and 
bid him God-speed. So he went on with haste, neither spake he to 
any man by the way ; nor, if any asked him, would he vouchsafe 
them an answer. He went like one that was all the while treading 
on forbidden ground, and could by no means think himself safe, til] 
again he was got into the way which he left, to follow Mr. Worldly 
Wiseman's counsel. So, in process of time Christian got up to the 
gate. Now, over the gate there was written, "Knock, and it shall 
be opened unto you."$ 

" He that will enter in must first without 
Stand knocking- at the Gate, nor need he doubt 
That is A KNOCKER but to enter in ; 
For God can love him and forgive his sin." 

He knocked, therefore, more than once or twice, saying — 

" May I now enter here ? Will he within 
Open to sorry me, though I have been 
An undeserving rebel? " Then shall I 
Not fail to sing his lasting praise on high." 

At last there came a grave person to the gate, named Good-will, 
who asked who was there ? and whence he came ? and what he would 
have ? 

* Gal. iii. to. f Psa. ii. 12. t Matt. vii. 7. 

C 2 



20 GOOD- WILL HELPS CHRISTIAN. 

Chr. Here is a poor burdened sinner. I come from the City of 
Destruction, but am going to Mount Zion, that I may be delivered 
from the wrath to come. I would, therefore, Sir, since I am informed 
that by this gate is the way thither, know if you are willing to let me 
in! 

Good-will. I am willing with all my heart, said he ; and with 
that he opened the gate. 

So when Christian was stepping in, the other gave him a pull. 
Then said Christian, What means that? The other told him. A 
little distance from this gate, there is erected a strong castle, of which 
Beelzebub is the captain ; from thence, both he and them that are 
with him shoot arrows at those that come up to this gate, if haply 
they may die before they can enter in. 

Then said Christian, I rejoice and tremble. So when he was got 
in, the man of the gate asked him who directed him thither ? 

Chr. Evangelist bid me come hither, and knock (as I did) ; and 
he said that you, Sir, would tell me what I must do. 

Good-will. An open door is set before thee, and no man can 
shut it.* 

Chr. Now I begin to reap the benefits of my hazards. 

Good-will. But how is it that you came alone? 

Chr. Because none of my neighbours saw their danger, as I saw 
mine. 

Good-w t ill. Did any of them know of your coming? 

Chr. Yes; my wife and children saw me at the first, and called after 
me to turn again : also, some of my neighbours stood crying and 
calling after me to return ; but I put my fingers in my ears, and so 
came on my way. 

Good-will. But did none of them follow you, to persuade you to 
go back ? 

Chr. Yes, both Obstinate and Pliable ; but when they saw that 
they could not prevail, Obstinate went railing back, but Pliable 
came with me a little way. 

Good-will. But why did he not come through ? 

Chr. We, indeed, came both together, until we came at the 
Slough of Despond, into the which we also suddenly fell. And then 
was my neighbour, Pliable, discouraged, and would not adventure 
further. Wherefore, getting out again on that side next to his own 
house, he told me I should possess the brave country alone for 
him; so he went his way, and I came mine — he after Obstinate, and 
I to this gate. 

Good- WILL. Then said Good-will, Alas, poor man ! is the celestial 

* Isa. x.xii. 22 ; Rev. iii. 7. 



THE NARROW WAY. 21 

glory of so small esteem with him, that he counteth it not worth 
running the hazards of a few difficulties to obtain it ? 

Chr. Truly, said Christian, I have said the truth of Pliable, and 
if I should also say all the truth of myself, it will appear there is no 
betterment betwixt him and myself. It is true, he went back to his 
own house, but I also turned aside to go in the way of death, 
being persuaded thereto by the carnal arguments of one Mr. Worldly 
Wiseman. 

Good-will. Oh ! did he light upon you? What ! he would have 
had you sought for ease at the hands of Mr. Legality ? They are, 
both of them, very cheats. But did you take his counsel? 

Chr. Yes, as far as I durst ; I went to find out Mr. Legality, until 
I thought that the mountain that stands by his house would have 
fallen upon my head ; wherefore, there I was forced to stop. 

Good-will. That mountain has been the death of many, and 
will be the death of many more ; it is well you escaped being by it 
dashed in pieces. 

Chr. Why, truly, I do not know what had become of me there, 
had not Evangelist happily met me again, as I was musing in the 
midst of my dumps ; but it was God's mercy that he came to me 
again, for else I had never come hither. But now I am come, such 
a one as I am, more fit, indeed, for death, by that mountain, than 
thus to stand talking with my Lord ; but, oh, what a favour is this 
to me, that yet I am admitted entrance here ! 

Good-will. We make no objections against any, notwithstanding 
all that they have done before they came hither. They are " in no 
wise cast out,"* and therefore, good Christian, cornea little way with 
me, and I will teach thee about the way thou must go. Look before 
thee ; dost thou see this narrow way ? That is the way thou must go; 
it was cast up by the patriarchs, prophets, Christ, and his apostles ; 
and it is as straight as a rule can make it. This is the w r ay thou 
must go. 

Chr. But, said Christian, are there no turnings or windings, by 
which a stranger may lose his way ? 

Good-will. Yes, there are many ways butt down upon this, 
and they are crooked and wide. But thus thou mayest distin- 
guish the right from the wrong, the right only being straight and 
narrow, t 

Then I saw in my dream, that Christian asked him further if he 
could not help him off with his burden that was upon 
his back ; for as yet he had not got rid thereof, nor be T g!?e fromsto! 
could he by any means get it off without help. 

* John vi. 37. t Matt. vii. 14. 



22 THE INTERPRETER'S HOUSE. 

Th re is no deli ** e to ^ ^ im ' As to thy burden, be content to bear 
verance from the it, until thou comest to the place of deliverance ; for 
guil? a r» d h " vd ? n there it will fall from thy back of itself, 
death ancfblood of Then Christian began to gird up his loins, and to 
Christ. address himself to his journey. So the other told him, 

That by that he was gone some distance from the 
gate, he would come at the house of the Interpreter, at whose door 
he should knock, and he would show him excellent things. Then 
Christian took his leave of his friend, and he again bid him God-speed. 

Then he went on till he came to the house of the Interpreter, 
where he knocked over and over ; at last one came to the door, and 
asked who was there? 

Chr. Sir, here is a traveller, who was bid by an acquaintance of 
the good-man of this house to call here for my profit ; I would 
therefore speak with the master of the house. So he called for the 
master of the house, who, after a little time, came to Christian, and 
asked him what he would have. 

Chr. Sir, said Christian, I am a man that am come from the city 
of Destruction, and am going to the Mount Zion ; and I was told by 
the man that stands at the gate, at the head of this way, that if I 
called here, you would show me excellent things, such as would be 
a help to me in my journey. 

Inter. Then said the Interpreter, Come in; I will show that 

. which will be profitable to thee. So he commanded 

here^signlfied! his man to light the candle, and bid Christian follow 

him : so he had him into a private room, and bid 

his man open a door ; the which when he had done, Christian saw 

the picture of a very grave person hang up against the wall ; and 

this was the fashion of it. It had eyes lifted up to heaven, the best of 

books in his hand, the law of truth was written upon his lips, the 

world was behind his back. It stood as if it pleaded with men, and 

a crown of gold did hang over his head. 

Chr. Then said Christian, What meaneth this? 

Inter. The man whose picture this is, is one of a thousand ; he 
can beget children,* travail in birth with children,! and nurse them 
himself when they are born. And whereas thou seest him with his 
eyes lift up to heaven, the best of books in his hand, and the law of 
truth writ on his lips, it is to show thee that his work is to know 
and unfold dark things to sinners ; even as also thou seest him 
stand as if he pleaded with men ; and whereas thou seest the world 
as cast behind him, and that a crown hangs over his head, that is 
to show thee that slighting and despising the things that are present, 

* i Cor. iv. 15. t Gal. iv. 19. 



THE DUSTY ROOM. 23 

for the love that he hath to his Master's sendee, he is sure in the 
world that comes next, to have glory for his reward. Now, said 
the Interpreter, I have showed thee this picture first, because the 
man whose picture this is, is the only man whom the Lord of the 
place whither thou art going, hath authorized to be thy guide in all . 
difficult places thou mayest meet with in the way ; wherefore, take 
good heed to what I have showed thee, and bear well in thy mind 
what thou hast seen, lest in tby journey thou meet with some that 
pretend to lead thee right, but their way goes down to death. 

Then he took him by the hand, and led him into a very large 
parlour that was full of dust, because never swept ; the which, after 
he had reviewed a little while, the Interpreter called for a man to 
sweep. Now, when he began to sweep, the dust began so abundantly 
to fly about, that Christian had almost therewith been choked. Then 
said the Interpreter to a damsel that stood by, Bring hither the 
water and sprinkle the room ; the which, when she had done, it 
was swept and cleansed with pleasure. 

Chr. Then said Christian, What means this? 

Inter. The Interpreter answered, This parlour is the heart of a 
man that was never sanctified by the sweet grace of the gospel ; the 
dust is his original sin and inward corruptions, that have defiled the 
whole man. He that began to sweep at first, is the Law ; but she 
that brought water, and did sprinkle it, is the Gospel. Now, whereas 
thou sawest, that so soon as the first began to sweep, the dust did so 
fly about that the room by him could not be cleansed, but that thou 
wast almost choked therewith ; this is to show thee, that the law, in- 
stead of cleansing the heart (by its working) from sin, doth revive, 
put strength into, and increase it in the soul, even as it doth discover 
and forbid it, for it doth not give power to subdue it.* 

Again, as thou sawest the damsel sprinkle the room with water, 
upon which it was cleansed with pleasure ; this is to show thee that 
when the gospel comes in the sweet and precious influences thereof 
to the heart, then, I say, even as thou sawest the damsel lay the 
dust by sprinkling the floor with water, so is sin vanquished and 
subdued, and the soul made clean through the faith of it, and con- 
sequently fit for the King of glory to inhabit.! 

I saw, moreover, in my dream, that the Interpreter took him by 
the hand, and had him into a little room, where sat two little chil- 
dren, each one in his chair. The name of the eldest was Passion, 
and the name of the other Patience. Passion seemed to be much 
discontented ; but Patience was very quiet. Then Christian asked, 

* Rom. vii. 6 ; i Cor, xv. 56 ; Rom. v. 20. 
t John xv. 3 ; Eph. v. 26 ; Acts xv. 9 ; John xv. 13 



24 PASSION AND PA TIENCE. 

What is the reason of the discontent of Passion ? The Interpreter 
answered, The Governor of them would have him stay for his best 
things till the beginning of the next year ; but he will have all now ; 
but Patience is willing to wait. 

Then I saw that one came to Passion, and brought him a bag of 
treasure, and poured it down at his feet, the which he took up and 
rejoiced therein, and withal laughed Patience to scorn. But I be- 
held but a while, and he had lavished all away and had nothing left 
him but rags. 

Chr. Then said Christian to the Interpreter, Expound this matter 
more fully to me. 

Inter. So he said, These two lads are figures : Passion, of the 
men of this world ; and Patience, of the men of that which is to 
come ; for as here thou seest, Passion will have all now this year, 
that is to say, in this world ; so are the men of this world : they must 
have all their good things now, they cannot stay till next year, that 
is, until the next world, for their portion of good. That proverb, 
"A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush," is of more authority 
with them than are all the Divine testimonies of the good of the world 
to come. But as thou sawest that he had quickly lavished all away, 
and had presently left him nothing but rags ; so will it be with all 
such men at the end of this world. 

Chr. Then said Christian, Now I see that Patience has the best 
wisdom, and that upon many accounts. First, because he stays for 
the best things. Second, and also because he will have the glory of 
his, when the other has nothing but rags. 

Inter. Nay, you may add another, to wit, the glory of the next 
world will never wear out ; but these are suddenly gone. Therefore 
Passion had not so much reason to laugh at Patience, because he 
had his good things first, as Patience will have to laugh at Passion, 
because he had his best things last ; for first must give place to last, 
because last must have his time to come ; but last gives place to 
nothing ; for there is not another to succeed. He, therefore, that 
hath his portion first, must needs have time to spend it ; but he that 
hath his portion last, must have it lastingly, therefore it is said of 
Dives, " Thou in thy lifetime receivedst thy good things, and likewise 
Lazarus evil things ; but now he is comforted, and thou art tor- 
mented."* 

Chr. Then I perceive it is not best to covet things that are now, 
but to wait for things to come. 

Inter. You say the truth : " For the things which are seen are 
temporal ; but the things which are not seen are eternal, "t But 
• Luke xvi. 25. t 2 Cor. iv. 18. 




CHRISTIAN S BURDEN FALLS OFF. P, 2(), 




THE SHINING ONES. P. 2Q. 



THE WORK OF GRACE. 25 

though this be so, yet since things present and our fleshy appetite 
are such near neighbours one to another ; and again, because things 
to come, and carnal sense, are such strangers one to another; there- 
j fore it is that the first of these so suddenly fall into amity, and that 
distance is so continued between the second. 

Then I saw in my dream that the Interpreter took Christian by the 
hand, and led him into a place where was a fire burning against a 
wall, and one standing by.it, always casting much water upon it, to 
quench it ; yet did the fire burn higher and hotter. 

Then said Christian, What means this ? 

The Interpreter answered, This fire is the work of grace that is 
wrought in the heart; he that casts water upon it, to extinguish and 
put it out, is the Devil ; but in that thou seest the fire notwith- 
standing burn higher and hotter, thou shalt also see the reason of 
that. So he had him about to the back-side of the wall, where he 
saw a man with a vessel of oil in his hand, of the which he did also 
continually cast (but secretly), into the fire. 

Then said Christian, What is the meaning of this ? 

The Interpreter answered, This is Christ, who continually, with 
the oil of his grace, maintains the work already begun in the heart : 
by the means of which, notwithstanding what the devil can do, the 
souls of his people prove gracious still.* And in that thou sawest 
that the man stood behind the wall to maintain the fire, that is to 
teach thee that it is hard for the tempted to see how this work of 
grace is maintained in the soul. 

I saw also, that the Interpreter took him again by the hand, and 
led him into a pleasant place, where was builded a stately palace, 
beautiful to behold ; at the sight of which Christian was greatly de- 
lighted. He saw also, upon the top thereof, certain persons walking, 
who were clothed all in gold. 

Then said Christian, May we go in thither. 

Then the Interpreter took him, and led him up towards the door 
of the palace ; and behold, at the door stood a great company of 
men, as desirous to go in, but durst not. There also sat a man at a 
little distance from the door, at a table-side, with a book and his ink- 
horn before him, to take the name of him that should enter therein; 
he saw also, that in the doorway stood many men. in armour to keep 
it, being resolved to do the men that would enter what hurt and mis- 
chief they could. Now was Christian somewhat in amaze. At last, 
when every man started back for fear of the armed men, Christian 
saw a man of a very stout countenance come up to the man that sat 
there to write, saying, "Set down my name, Sir :" the which when 

* 2 Cor. xii. 9. 



26 THE IRON CAGE, 

he had done, he saw the man draw his sword, and put an helmet 
upon his head, and rush toward the door upon the armed men, who 
laid upon him with deadly force ; but the man, not at all discouraged, 
fell to cutting and hacking most fiercely. So after he had received 
and given many wounds to those that attempted to keep him out, he 
cut his way through them all,* and pressed forward into the palace, 
at which there was a pleasant voice heard from those that were 
within, even of those that walked upon the top of the palace, saying — 

" Come in, come in ; 
Eternal glory thou shalt win." 

So he went in, and was clothed with such garments as they. Then 
Christian smiled and said, I think verily I know the meaning of this* 

Now, said Christian, let me go hence. Nay, stay, said the Inter- 
preter, till I have showed thee a little more, and after that thou shalt 
go on thy way. So he took him by the hand again, 
?, e f£n ir JiS! and led him into a very dark room, where there sat a 

ci.il 11 Oil to^Ci m * * 

man in an iron cage. 

Now the man, to look on, seemed very sad ; he sat with his eyes 
looking down to the ground, his hands folded together, and he sighed 
as if he would break his heart. Then said Christian, What means 
this? At which the Interpreter bid him talk with the man. 

Then said Christian to the man, What art thou? The man 
answered, I am what I was not once. 

Chr. What wast thou once? 

MAN. The man said, I was once a fair and flourishing professor, f 
both in mine own eyes, and also in the -eyes of others ; I once was, 
as I thought, fair for the Celestial City, and had then even joy at the 
thoughts that I should get thither. 

Chr. Well, but what art thou now? 

Man. I am now a man of despair, and am shut up in it, as in this 
iron cage. I cannot get out. Oh, now I cannot ! 

Chr. But how earnest thou in this condition? 

Man. I left off to watch and be sober ; I laid the reins upon the 
neck of my lusts ; I sinned against the light of the Word and the 
gooefness of God ; I have grieved the Spirit, and he is gone ; I 
tempted the devil, and he is come to me ; I have provoked God to 
anger, and he has left me : I have so hardened my heart, that I can- 
not repent. 

Then said Christian to the Interpreter, But is there no hope for 
such a man as this? Ask him, said the Interpreter. 

Chr. Then said Christian, Is there no hope, but you must be 
kept in the iron cage of despair ? 

* i Tim. vi. 12. t Luke viii. 13. 



THE DREAM. 27 

Man. No, none at all. 

Chr. Why ? The Son of the Blessed is very pitiful. 

Man. I have crucified him to myself afresh ;* I have despised his 
person ;t I have despised his righteousness ; I have ' ' counted his 
blood an unholy thing ;" I have ' ' done despite to the Spirit of 
Grace."! Therefore I have shut myself out of all the promises, and 
there now remains to me nothing but threatenings, dreadful threat- 
enings, fearful threatenings of certain judgment and fiery indignation, 
which shall devour me as an adversary. 

Chr. For what did you bring yourself into this condition ? 

Man. For the lusts, pleasures, and profits of this world ; in the 
enjoyment of which I did then promise myself much delight ; but 
now every one of those things also bite me, and gnaw me like a 
burning worm. 

Chr. But canst thou not now repent and turn? 

Man. God hath denied me repentance. His Word gives me no 
encouragement to believe ; yea, himself hath shut me up in this iron 
cage; nor can all the men in the world let me out. O eternity!" 
eternity ! how shall I grapple with the misery that I must meet with 
in eternity ! 

Inter. Then said the Interpreter to Christian, Let this man's 
misery be remembered by thee, and be an everlasting caution to 
thee. 

Chr. Well, said Christian, this is fearful ! God help me to watch 
and be sober, and to pray that I may shun the cause of this man's 
misery ! Sir, is it not time for me to go on my way now ? 

Inter. Tarry till I shall show thee one thing more, and then thou 
shalt go on thy way. 

So he took Christian by the hand again, and led him into a cham- 
ber, where there was one rising out of bed ; and as he put on his 
raiment, he shook and trembled. Then said Christian, Why doth 
this man thus tremble ? The Interpreter then bid him tell to Chris- 
tian the reason of his so doing. So he began and said, This night, 
as I was in my sleep, I dreamed, and behold the heavens grew ex- 
ceeding black ; also it thundered and lightened in most fearful wise, 
that it put me into an agony ; so I looked up in my dream, and saw 
the clouds racked at an unusual rate, upon which I heard a great 
sound of a trumpet, and saw also a man sit upon a cloud, attended 
with the thousands of heaven ; they were all in flaming fire : also the 
heavens were in a burning flame. I heard then a voice saying, 
"Arise, ye dead, and come to judgment ;" and with that the rocks 
rent, the graves opened, and the dead that were therein came forth. 

* Heb. vi. 6. t Luke xix. 14. % Heb. x. 28, 29. 



28 CHRIS 7 IAN DEPARTS. 

Some of them were exceeding glad, and looked upward ; and some 
sought to hide themselves under the mountains.* Then I saw the 
man that sat upon the cloud open the book, and bid the world draw 
near. Yet there was, by reason of a fierce flame which issued out 
and came from before him, a convenient distance betwixt him and 
them, as betwixt the judge and the prisoners at the bar.t I heard 
it also proclaimed to them that attended on the man that sat on the 
cloud, ' ' Gather together the tares, the chaff, and stubble, and cast 
them into the burning lake. "J And with that, the bottomless pit 
opened, just whereabout I stood ; out of the mouth of which there 
came, in an abundant manner, smoke and coals of fire, with hideous 
noises. It was also said to the same persons, "Gather my wheat 
into the gamer. "§ And with that I saw many catched up and car- 
ried away into the clouds, but I was left behind. |] I also sought to 
hide myself, but I could not, for the man that sat upon the cloud 
still kept his eye upon me : my sins also came into my mind ; and 
my conscience did accuse me on every side.^f Upon this I awaked 
from my sleep. 

Chr/ But what was it that made you so afraid of this sight? 

Man. Why, I thought that the day of judgment was come, and 
that I was not ready for it : but this frightened me most, that the 
angels gathered up several, and left me behind ; also the pit of hell 
opened her mouth just where I stood. My conscience, too, afflicted 
me ; and, as I thought, the Judge had always his eye upon me, 
showing indignation in his countenance. 

Then said the Interpreter to Christian, Hast thou considered all 
these things? 

Chr. Yes, and they put me in hope and fear. 

Inter. Well, keep all things so in thy mind that they may be as 
a goad in thy sides, to prick thee forward in the way thou must go. 
Then Christian began to gird up his loins, and to address himself to 
his journey. Then said the Interpreter, The Comforter be always 
with thee, good Christian, to guide thee in the way that leads to the 
City. So Christian went on his way, saying — 

" Here I have seen things rare and profitable ; 
Things pleasant, dreadful, things to make me stable 
In what I have begun to take in hand ; 
Then let me think on them, and understand 
Wherefore they showed me were, and let me be 
Thankful, O good Interpreter, to thee." 

Now I saw in my dream, that the highway up which Christian 

* i Cor. xv. ; i Thes. iv. ; Jude 14 ; John y. 28, 29 ; 2 Thes. i. 7, 8 ; Rev. xx. 11 — 14 ; 
Is. xxvi. 21. 

t Mai. iii. 2, 3 ; Dan. vii. 9, 10. J Matt. iii. 12 ; xiii. 30 ; Mai. iv. t. 

$ Luke iii. 17. y 1 Thess. iv. 16. 17. % Rom. ii. 14, 15. 



THE CROSS. 29 

was to go, was fenced on either side with a wall, and that wall was 
called Salvation.* Up this way, therefore, did burdened Christian 
run, but not without great difficulty, because of the load on his 
back. 

He ran thus till he came at a place somewhat ascending, and upon 
that place stood a cross, and a little below, in the bottom, a sepul- 
chre. So I saw in my dream, that just as Christian came up with 
the cross, his burden loosed from off his shoulders, and fell from 
off his back, and began to tumble, and so continued to do, tfll it 
came to the mouth of the sepulchre, where it fell in, and I saw it no 
more. 

Then was Christian glad and lightsome, and said, with a merry 
heart, ' ' He hath given me rest by his sorrow, and life 
by his death." Then he stood still awhile to look leases^s of our 
and wonder ; for it was very surprising to him, that s uil t and burden 
the sight of the cross should thus ease him of his Ica^forjoy^ 
burden. He looked therefore, and looked again, 
even till the springs that were in his head sent the waters down his 
cheeks. t Now, as he stood looking and weeping, behold three 
Shining Ones came to him and saluted him with ' ' Peace be to thee." 
So the first said to him, "Thy sins be forgiven thee, "J the second 
stripped him of his rags, and clothed him "with change of raiment, "§ 
the third also set a mark on his forehead] and gave him a roll with a 
seal upon it, which he bade him look on as he ran, and that he 
should give it in at the Celestial Gate.^f So they went their way. 

" Who's this? the Pilgrim. How ! 'tis very true, 
Old things are past away, all's become new. 
Strange ! he's another man, upon my word, 
They be fine feathers that make a fine bird." 

Then Christian gave three leaps for joy, and went on singing — 

" Thus far I did come laden with my sin ; 
Nor could aught ease the grief that I was in 
Till I came hither : What a place is this ! 
Must here be the beginning of my bliss ? 
Must here the burden fall from off my back? 
Must here the strings that bound it to me crack? 
Blest cross ! blest sepulchre ! blest rather be 
The man that there was put to shame for me !" 

I saw then in my dream, that he went on thus, even until he came at 
a bottom, where he saw, a little out of the way, three men fast asleep, 
with fetters upon their heels. The name of the one was Simple, 
another Sloth, and the third Presumption. 

Christian then seeing them lie in this case went to them, if perad- 

* Isa. xxvi. 1. X Zech. xii. 10. % Mark. ii. 5. $ Zech. iii. 4. 

|| 2 Cor. iii. 2, 3. % Eph. i. 13. 



30 SIMPLE, SLOTH, AND PRESUMPTION. 

venture he might awake them, and cried, Ye are like them that sleep 
on the top of a mast, for the Dead Sea is under you — a gulf that 
hath no bottom.* Awake, therefore, and come away ; be willing 
also, and I will help you off with your irons. He also told them, If 
he that "goeth about like a roaring lion," comes by, you will cer- 
tainly become a prey to his teeth. t With that they looked upon 
him, and began to reply in this sort : Simple said, 
There is noper- <<\ see no danger;" Sloth said, "Yet a little 

suasion will do, if , ,, j t-> u. • i <• t-> ± i_ 

God opcneth not more sleep ; and Presumption said, Every tub 

he eyes. must stand upon his own bottom." And so they lay 

down to sleep again, and Christian went on his way. 

Yet was he troubled to think that men in that danger should so 
little esteem the kindness of him that so freely offered to help them, 
both by awakening oft hem, counselling of them, and proffering to 
help them off with their irons. And as he was troubled thereabout, 
he espied two men come tumbling over the wall, on the left hand of 
the narrow way, and they made up apace to him. The name of the 
one was Formalist, and the name of the other was Hypocrisy. So, 
as I said, they drew up unto him, who thus entered with them into 
discourse. 

Chr. Gentlemen, whence came you, and whither go you? 

Form and Hyp. We were born in the land of Vain-glory, and 
are going for praise to Mount Zion. 

Chr. Why came you not in at the gate which standeth at the 
beginning of the way? Know you not that it is written, that he 
that cometh not in by the door, "but climbeth up some other way, 
the same is a thief and a robber?"! 

Form, and Hyp. They said, That to go to the gate for entrance 
was, by all their countrymen, counted too far about ; and that, 
therefore, their usual way was to make a short cut of it, and to climb 
over the wall, as they had done. 

Chr. But will it not be counted a trespass against the Lord of 
the city whither we are bound, thus to violate his revealed will? 

Form, and Hyp. They told him, that, as for that, he needed not 
to trouble his head thereabout ; for what they did they had custom 
for ; and could produce, if need were, testimony that would witness 
it for more than a thousand years. 

Chr. But, said Christian, will your practice stand a trial at law? 

Form, and Hyp. They told him, That custom, it being of so long 
a standing as above a thousand years, would doubtless, now be 
admitted as a thing legal by any impartial judge ; and beside, said 
they, if we get into the way, what matter which way we get in? If 

* ProT. x\iii. 34. t 1 Pet. v. S. J John x. 1. 



THE HILL DIFFICULTY. 31 

we are in, we are in ; thou art but in the way, who, as we perceive, 
came in at the gate ; and we are also in the way, that came tumbling 
over the wall, wherein, now, is thy condition better than ours ?" 

Chr. I walk by the rule of my Master ; you walk by the rude 
working of your fancies. You are counted thieves already, by the 
Lord of the way ; therefore, I doubt you will not be found true men 
at the end of the way. You come in by yourselves, without his 
direction; and shall go out by yourselves, without his mercy. 

To this they made him but little answer ; only they bid him look to 
himself. Then I saw that they went on every man in his way, with- 
out much conference one with another; save that these two men told 
Christian, that as to laws and ordinances, they doubted not but 
they should as conscientiously do them as he; therefore, said they, 
we see not wherein thou differest from us but by the coat that is on 
thy back, which was, as we trow, given thee by some of thy neigh- 
bours, to hide the shame of thy nakedness. 

Chr. By laws and ordinances you will not be saved, since you 
came not in by the door.* And as for this coat that is on my back, 
it was given me by the Lord of the place whither I go; and that, as 
you say, to cover my nakedness with. And I take it as a token of 
his kindness to me ; for I had nothing but rags before. And besides, 
thus I comfort myself as I go : Surely, think I, when I come to the 
.gate of the city, the Lord thereof will know me for good, since I -have 
his coat on my back — a coat that he gave me freely in the day that 
he stripped me of my rags.f I have, moreover, a mark in my fore- 
head, of which, perhaps, you have taken no notice, which one of my 
Lord's most intimate associates fixed therein the day that my burden 
fell off my shoulders. I will tell you, moreover, that I had then 
given me a roll, sealed, to comfort me by reading as I go on the 
way ; I was also bid to give it in at the Celestial Gate, in token of 
my certain going in after it ; all which things I doubt you want, and 
want them because you came not in at the gate. 

To these things they gave him no answer ; only they looked upon 
each other, and laughed. Then I saw that they went on all, save 
that Christian kept before, who had no more talk but with himself, 
and that sometimes sighingly, and sometimes comfortably ; also he 
would be often reading in the roll that one of the Shining Ones gave 
him, by which he was refreshed. 

I beheld, then, that they all went on till they came to the foot of 

the Hill Difficulty ; at the bottom of which was a spring. There 

were also in the same place two other ways besides that which came 

straight from the gate ; one turned to the left hand, and the other 

* Joiin x. 1—9. t Luke xv. 22 ; Isaiah lxi. 10. 



32 THE TWO WAYS. 

to the right, at the bottom of the hill ; but the narrow way lay rig?. 
up the hill, and the name of the going up the side of the hill is 
called Difficulty. Christian now went to the spring, and drank 
thereof, to refresh himself, * and then began to go up the hill, say- 
ing— 

" The hill, though high, I covet to ascend, 
The difficulty will not me offend ; 
For I perceive the way tc life lies here. 
Come, pluck up heart, let's neither faint nor fear ; 
Better, though difficult, the right way to go, 
Than wrong, though easy, where the end is woe." 

The other two also came to the foot of the hill ; but when the I 
saw that the hill was steep and high, and that there were two othe 
ways to go ; and supposing also that these two ways might met 
again, with that up which Christian went, on the other side of th 
hill ; therefore they were resolved to go in those ways. Now th -_ 
name of one of those ways was Danger, and the name of the othe 

Destruction. So the one took the way which is calle 
The danger of Danger, which led him into a great wood, and the 

way. mgOU ° e other took directly up the way to destruction, whic 

led him into a wide field, full of dark mountains 
where he stumbled and fell, and rose no more. 

" Shall they who wrong begin yet rightly end? 
Shall they at all have safety for their friend ? 
No, no ; in headstrong manner they set out, 
And headlong will they fall at last no doubt." 

Hooked, then, after Christian, to see him go up the hill, where I 

perceived he fell from running to going, and from going to clambei- 

ing upon his hands and his knees, because of th'.. 

Tvor o grace. s t ee p ness f ^ ie pi ace . Now, about the midway to 

the top of the hill was a pleasant arbour, made by the Lord of the hi I 

for the refreshing of weary travellers ; thither, therefore, Christia. 

pro* - 1 — - ' he sat down to rest him. Then he pulled hi 

">m, and read therein to his comfort ; he also nov 

ke a review of the coat or garment that was give-. 

_ ^ JW uu Dy the cross. Thus pleasing himself awhile, he a 

last fell into a slumber, and thence into a fast sleep, which detained' 
him in that place until it was almost night ; and in his sleep his ro' 
fell out of his hand. Now, as he was sleeping, there came one t 
him, and awaked him, saying, " Go to the ant, thou sluggard ; cor 
sider her ways, and be wise."f And with that Christian started up 
and sped him on his way, and went apace, till he came to the top c 
the hill. 

* isa. xlix. 10. t Prov. vi. 6. 




CHRISTIAN CLIMBS THE HIM. DIFFICULTY. P. $2. 



CHRISTIAN LOSES HIS ROLL. 33 

Now, when he was got up to the top of the hill, there came two 
men running to meet him amain ; the name of the -.-... . 

i-n- i r ^ ,i ,,. . , Christian meets 

one was Timorous, and of the other, Mistrust; to with Mistrust and 
whom Christian said, Sirs, what's the matter ? You Timorous. 
run the wrong way. Timorous answered, that they 
were going to the City of Zion, and had got up that difficult place ; 
but, said he, the further we go, the more danger we meet with ; 
wherefore we turned, and are going back again. 

Yes, said Mistrust, for just before us lie a couple of lions in the 
way,* whether sleeping or waking we know not, and we could not 
think, if we came within reach, but they would presently pull us in 
pieces, 

Chr. Then said Christian, You make me afraid, but whither shall 
I fly to be safe ? If I go back to mine own country, that is prepared 
for fire and brimstone, and I shall certainly perish there. If I can 
get to the Celestial City, I am sure to be in safety there. I must 
venture. To go back is nothing but death ; to go forward is fear of 
death, and life everlasting beyond it. I will yet go forward. So 
Mistrust and Timorous ran down the hill, and Christian went on his 
way. But, thinking again of what he had heard from the men, he 
felt in his bosom for his roll, that he might read therein, and be 
comforted ; but he felt, and found it not. Then was Christian in 
great distress, and knew not what to do ; for he wanted that which 
used to relieve him, and that which should have been his pass into 
the Celestial City. Here, therefore, he began to be much perplexed, 
and knew not what to do. At last he bethought himself that he had 
slept in the arbour that is on the side of the hill; and, falling down upon 
his knees, he asked God's forgiveness for that his foolish act, and then 
went back to look for his roll. But all the way he went back, who 
can sufficiently set forth the sorrow of Christian's heart ! Sometimes 
he sighed, sometimes he wept, and oftentimes he chid himself for 
being so foolish to fall asleep in that place, which was erected only 
for a little refreshment for his weariness. Thus, therefore, he went 
back, carefully looking on this side and on that, all the way as he 
went, if happily he might find his roll, that had been his comfort so 
many times in his journey. He went thus, till he came again within 
sight of the arbour where he sat -and slept; but that sight renewed 
his sorrow the more, by bringing again, even afresh, his evil of sleep- 
ing into his mind.t Thus, therefore, he now went on bewailing his 
sinful sleep, saying, "O wretched man that I am ! " that I should 
sleep in the day-time ! that I should sleep in the midst of difficulty ! 
that I should so indulge the flesh, as to use that rest for ease to my 
* Proverbs xxvi. 13. t Rev. ii. 5 ; 1 Thcs. v. 7.. 8. 

D 



34 CHRISTIAN BENIGHTED. 

flesh, which the Lord of the hill hath erected only for the relief of the 
spirits of pilgrims ! 

How many steps have I took in vain ! Thus it happened to Israel, for 
their sin ; they were sent back again by the way of the Red Sea; and I 
am made to tread those steps with sorrow, which I might have trod with 
delight, had it not been for this sinful sleep. How far might I have 
been on my way by this time ! I am made to tread those steps thrice 
over, which I needed not to have trod but once ; yea, now also I am 
like to be benighted, for the day is almost spent. Oh ! that I had 
not slept ! 

Now, by this time he was come to the arbour again, where for a 
while he sat down and wept ; but at last (as Christian would have 
it), looking sorrowfully down under the settle, there he espied his 
roll ; the which he, with trembling and haste, catched up, and put 
it into his bosom. But who can tell how joyful this man was when 
he had gotten his roll again ! for this roll was the assurance of his 
life and acceptance at the desired haven. Therefore he laid it up in 
his bosom, gave thanks to God for directing his eve to the place 
where it lay, and with joy and tears betook himself again to his jour- 
ney. But oh, how nimbly now did he go up the rest of the hill ! 
Yet, before he got up, the sun went down upon Christian ; and this 
made him again recall the vanity of his sleeping to his remembrance; 
and thus he again began to condole with himself. O thou sinful 
sleep : how, for thy sake am I like to be benighted in my journey ! 
I must walk without the sun ; darkness must cover the path of my 
l:et; and I must hear the noise of the doleful creatures, because of 
my sinful sleep. Now also he remembered the story that Mistrust 
and Timorous told him of, how they were frighted with the sight of the 
lions. Then said Christian to himself again, These beasts range in 
the night for their prey; and if they should meet with roe in the dark 
how should I shift them ? How should I escape being by them torn 
in pieces? Thus he went on his way. But while he was thus "be- 
wailing his unhappy miscarriage, he lift up his eyes, and behold there 
was a very stately palace before him, the name of which was Beauti- 
ful; and it stood just by the highway side. 

So I saw in my dream that he made haste and went forward, that 
if possible he might get lodging there. Now, before he had gone 
far, he entered into a very narrow passage, which was about a fur- 
long off of the porter's lodge ; and looking very narrowly before him 
as he went, he espied two lions in the way. Now, thought lie, I see 
the dangers that Mistrust and Timorous were driven back by. (The 
lions were chained, but he saw not the chains.) Then he was 



CHRISTIAN AND THE LIONS. 35 

afraid, and thought also himself to go back after them, for he 
thought nothing but death was before him. But the porter at the 
lodge, whose name is Watchful, perceiving that Christian made a 
halt as if he would go back, cried unto him, saying, Is thy strength 
so small ?* Fear not the lions, for they are chained, and are placed 
there for trial of faith where it is, and for discovery of those that had 
none. Keep in the midst of the path, and no hurt shall come unto 
thee.f 

" Difficulty is behind, Fear is before, 
Though he's got on the hill, the lions roar ; 
A Christian man is never long at ease, 
When one fright's gone, another doth him seize." 

Then I saw that he went on, trembling for fear of the lions, but 
taking good heed to the directions of the porter ; he heard them 
roar, but they did him no harm. Then he clapped his hands, and 
went on, till he came and stood before the gate where the porter 
was. Then said Christian to the porter, Sir, what house is this? 
And may 1 lodge here to-night? The porter answered, This house 
was built by the Lord of the hill, and he built it for the relief and 
security of pilgrims. The porter also asked whence he was, and 
whither he was going. 

Chr. I am come from the City of Destruction, and am going to 
Mount Zion ; but because the sun is now set, I desire, if I may, to 
lodge here to-night 

Por. What is your name ? 

Chr. My name is now Christian, but my name at the first was 
Graceless ; I came of the race of Japheth, whom God will persuade 
to dwell in the tents of Shem.f 

Por. But how doth it happen that you come so late ? The sun is 
set. 

Chr. I had been here sooner, but that, "wretched man that I 
am !" I slept in the arbour that stands on the hill-side ; nay, I had, 
notwithstanding that, been here much sooner, but that, in my sleep, 
I lost my evidence, and came without it to the brow of the hill ; and 
then feeling for it, and finding it not, I was forced, with sorrow of 
heart, to go back to the place where I slept my sleep, where I found 
it, and now I am come. 

Por. Well, I will call out one of the virgins of this place, who 
will, if she likes your talk, bring you in to the rest of the family, 
according to the rules of the house. So Watchful, the porter, rang 
a bell, at the sound of which came out at the door of the house, a 

* Mark xiii. 34—37, t Isaiah xli. 10. % Gen. ix. 27. 

D 2 



3 d PIETY, PRUDENCE, AND CHARITY. 

grave and beautiful damsel, named Discretion, and asked why she 
was called. 

The porter answered, This man is in a journey from the City of 
Pestruction to Mount Zion, but being weary and benighted, he 
asked me if he might lodge here to-night : so I told him I would 
call for thee, who, after discourse had with him, mayest do as seem- 
eth thee good, even according to the law of the house. 

Then she asked him whence he was, and whither he was going; 
and he told her. She asked him also how he got into the way ; and 
he told her. Then she asked him what he had seen and met with in 
the way ; and he told her. And last she asked his name ; so he said, 
It is Christian, and I have so much the more a desire to lodge here 
to-night, because, by what I perceive, this place was built by the 
Lord of the hill, for the relief and security of pilgrims. So she 
smiled, but the water stood in her eyes ; and after a little pause, she 
said, I will call forth two or three more of the family. So she ran 
to the door and called out Prudence, Piety, and Charity, who, after 
a little more discourse with him, had him into the family ; and many 
of them, meeting him at the threshold of the house, said, "Come 
in, thou blessed of the Lord ;" this house was built by the Lord of 
the hill, on purpose to entertain such pilgrims in. Then he bowed 
his head, and followed them into the house. So when he was come 
in and sat down, they gave him something to drink, and consented 
together, that until supper was ready, some of them should have 
some particular discourse with Christian, for the best improvement 
of time ; and they appointed Piety, and Prudence, and Charity to 
discourse with him ; and thus they began : 

Piety. Come, good Christian, since we have been so loving to you, 
to receive you into our house this night, let us, if perhaps we may 
better ourselves thereby, talk with you of all things that have hap- 
pened to you in your pilgrimage. 

Chr. With a very good will, and I am glad that you are so well 
disposed. 

Piety. What moved you at first to betake vourself to a pilgrim's 
life? 

Chr. I was driven out of my native country, by a dreadful sound 
that was in mine ears : to wit, that unavoidable destruction did at- 
tend me, if I abode in that place where I was. 

Piety. But how did it happen that you came out of your country 
this way? 

Chr. It was as God would have it ; for when I was under the 
fears of destruction, I did not know whither to go ; but by chance 
there came a man, even to me, as I was trembling and weeping, 



CHRIS TIAN RE LA TES HIS S TOR Y. 37 

whose name is Evangelist, and he directed me to the wicket-gate, 
which else I should never have found, and so set me into the way 
that hath led me directly to this house. 

Piety. But did you not come by the house of the Interpreter? 

Chr. Yes, and did see such things there, the remembrance of 
which will stick by me as long as I live ; especially three things : to 
wit, how Christ, in despite of Satan, maintains his work of grace in 
the heart ; how the man had sinned himself quite out of hopes of 
God's mercy ; and also the dream of him that thought in his sleep 
the day of judgment was come. 

Piety. Why, did you hear him tell his dream ? 

Chr. Yes, and a dreadful one it was. I thought it made my 
heart ache as he was telling of it ; but yet I am glad I heard it. 

Piety. Was that all that you saw at the house of the Interpreter ? 

Chr. No ; he took me and had me where he showed me a stately 
palace, and how the people were clad in gold that were in it ; and 
how there came a venturous man and cut his way through the armed 
men that stood in the door to keep him out, and how he was bid to 
come in, and win eternal glory. Methought those things did ravish 
my heart ! I would have stayed at that good man's house a twelve- 
month, but that I knew I had further to go. 

Piety. And what saw you else in the way ? 

Chr. Saw ! why, I went but a little further, and I saw one, as I 
thought in my mind, hang bleeding upon a tree ; and the very sight 
of him made my burden fall off my back (for I groaned under a very 
heavy burden), but then it fell down from off me. It was a strange 
thing to me, for I never saw such a thing before ; yea, and while I 
stood looking up, for then I could not forbear looking,* three 
Shining Ones came to me. One of them testified that my sins were 
forgiven me ; another stripped me of my rags, and gave me this 
broidered coat which you see ; and the third set the mark which you 
see in my forehead, and gave me this sealed roll. (And with that 
he plucked it out of his bosom.) 

Piety. But you saw more than this, did you not ? 

Chr. The things that I have told you were the best ; yet some 
other matters I saw, as namely : I saw three men, Simple, Sloth, 
and Presumption, lie asleep a little out of the way, as I came, with 
irons upon their heels ; but do you think I could awake them ? I 
also saw Formality and Hypocrisy come tumbling over the wall, to 
go, as they pretended, to Zion, but they were quickly lost, even as I 
myself did tell them ; but they would not believe. But above all, I 
found it hard work to get up this hill, and as hard to come by the 
* Hosea i. 4. 



38 PRUDENCE QUESTIONS HIM. 

lions' mouths : and truly if it had not been for the good man, the 
porter that stands at the gate, I do not know but that after all I 
might have gone back again : but now, I thank God I am here, and 
I thank you for receiving of me. 

Then Prudence thought good to ask him a few questions, and 
desired his answer to them. 

Prud. Do you not think sometimes of the country from whence 
you came? 

Chr. Yes, but with much shame and detestation : " truly, if I had 

been mindful of that cou?itry from whence I came out, I might 

Christian's have had opportunity to have returned ; but 

thoughts of his na- now I desire a better country, that is, an 

tive country. heavenly."* 

Prud. Do you not yet bear away with you some of the things 
that then you were conversant withal ? 

Chr. Yes, but greatly against my will ; especially my inward and 
carnal cogitations, with which all my countrymen, as well as myself* 
were delighted ; but now all those things are my grief ; and might 
I but choose mine own things, I would choose never to think of 
those things more ; but when I would be doing of that which is 
best, that which is worst is with me. t 

Prud. Do you not find sometimes, as if those things were van- 
quished, which at other times are your perplexity ? 

Chr. Yes, but that is but seldom ; but they are to me golden 
hours in which such things happen to me. 

Prud. Can you remember by what means you find your annoy- 
ances, at times, as if they were vanquished ? 

Chr. Yes, when I think what I saw at the cross, that will do it ; 
and when I look upon my broidered coat, that will do it ; also when 
I look into the roll that I carry in my bosom, that will do it ; and 
when my thoughts wax warm about whither I am going, that will 
do it. 

Prud. And what is it that makes you so desirous to go to Mount 
Zion? 

Chr. Why, there I hope to see him alive that did hang dead on 
the cross ; and there I hope to be rid of all those tilings that to this 
day are in me an annoyance to me; there, they say, there is no death ; 
and there I shall dwell with such company as I like best. J For, to tell 
you truth, I love Him, because I was by Him eased of my burden ; 
and I am weary of my inward sickness. I would fain be where I 
shall die no more, and with the company that shall continually cry, 
M Holy, Holy, Holy 1" 

* Heb. xi. 15, 16. t Rom. vii. 15—21. X Isa. xxv. 8 j Rev. xxL 4. 



CHARITY QUESTIONS HIM. 39 

Then said Charity to Christian, Have you a family ? Are you a 
married man ? 

Chr. I have a wife and four small children. 

Char. And why did you not bring them along with you ? 

Chr. Then Christian wept, and said, Oh, how willingly would I 
have done it ! but they were all of them utterly averse to my going on 
pilgrimage. 

Char. But you should have talked to them, and have endea- 
voured to have shown them the danger of being behind. 

Chr. So I did ; and told them also what God had shown to me 
of the destruction of our city ; ' ' but I seemed to them as one that 
mocked," and they believed me not.* 

Char. And did you pray to God that He would bless your 
counsel to them ! 

Chr. Yes, and that with much affection : for you must think 
that my wife and poor children were very dear unto me. 

Char. But did you tell them of your own sorrow and fear of 
destruction ? for I suppose that destruction was visible enough to you. 

Chr. Yes, over, and over, and over. They might also see my 
fears in my countenance, in my tears, and also in my trembling 
under the apprehension of the judgment that did hang over our 
heads ; but all was not sufficient to prevail with them to come with me. 

Char. But what could theysay for themselves, why they came not ? 

Chr. Why, my wife was afraid of losing this world, and my 
children were given to the foolish delights of youth : so what 
by one thing, and what by another, they left me to wander in this 
manner alone. 

Char. But did you not, with your vain life, damp all that you by 
words used by way of persuasion to bring them away with you ? 

Chr. Indeed, I cannot commend my life ; for I am conscious to 
myself of many failings therein : I know also, that a man by his 
conversation may soon overthrow, what by argument or persuasion 
he doth labour to fasten upon others for their good. Yet this I can 
say, I was very wary of giving them occasion, by any unseemly 
action, to make them averse to going on pilgrimage. Yea, for this 
very thing they would tell me I was too precise, and that I denied 
myself of things, for their sakes, in which they saw no evil. Nay, 
I think I may say, that if what they saw in me did hinder them, it 
was my great tenderness in sinning against God, or of doing any 
wrong to my neighbour. 

Char. Indeed Cain hated his brother, " because his own works 
were evil, and his brother's righteous ;"t and if thy wife and chil- 

* Gen. xix. 14. t 1 John Hi. 12. 



40 CHRISTIAN TESTS. 

dren have been offended with thee for this, they thereby show them- 
selves to be implacable to good, and " thou hast delivered thy soul 
from their blood."* 

Now I saw in my dream, that thus they sat talking together until 
supper was ready. So when they had made ready, they sat down to 
meat. Now the table was furnished "with fat tilings, and with 
wine that was well refined ;"t and all their talk at the table was 
about the Lord of the hill ; as, namely, about what he had done, 
and wherefore he did what he did, and why he had builded 
that house. And by what they said, I perceived that he had been 
a great warrior, and had fought with and slain " him that had 
the power of death, "% but not without great danger to himself, 
which made me love him the more. 

. For, as they said, and as I believe (said Christian), he did it with 
the loss of much blood ; but that which put glory of grace into all 
he did, was, that he did it out of pure love to his country. And 
besides, there were some of them of the household that said they had 
been and spoke with him since he did die on the cross ; and they 
have attested that they had it from his own lips, that he is such a 
lover of poor pilgrims, that the like is not to be found from the east 
to the west. 

They, moreover, gave an instance of what they affirmed, and that 
was, he had stripped himself of his glory, that he might do this for 
the poor ; and that they heard him say and affirm, " that he would 
not dwell in the mountain of Zion alone." They said, moreover, 
that he had made many pilgrims princes, though by nature they 
were beggars born, and their original had been the dunghill.§ 

Thus they discoursed together till late at night ; and after they 
had committed themselves to their Lord for protection, they betook 
themselves to rest : the Pilgrim they laid in a large upper chamber, 
whose window opened toward the sun-rising : the name of the cham- 
ber was Peace, where he slept till break of day, and then he awoke 
and sang — 

" Where am I now ? Is this the love and care 
Of Jesus for the men that pilgrims arc ? 
Thus to provide ! that I should be forgiven ! 
And dwell already the next door to heaven !" 

So in the morning they all got up ; and, after some more discourse, 
they told him that he should not depart till they had shown him the 
rarities of that place. Ar.d first they had him into the study, where 
they showed him records of the greatest antiquity ; in which, as I 
remember my dream, they showed him first the pedigree of the Lord 

* Ezek. iii. 19. + Isa. xxv. 6. % Heb. ii. 14, 15. 

§ 1 Sam. ii. 8 ; Psa, cxiii. 7. 



CHRIS TIAN ENTER TAINED. 41 

of the hill, that he was the son of the Ancient of Days, and came by 
that eternal generation. Here also was more fully recorded the acts 
that he had done, and the names of many hundreds that he had 
taken into his service ; and how he had placed them in such habita- 
tions, that could neither by length of days, nor decays of nature, be 
dissolved. 

Then they read to him some of the worthy acts that some of his 
servants had done : as, how they had ' ' subdued kingdoms, wrought 
righteousness, obtained promises, stopped the mouths of lions, 
quenched the violence of fire, escaped the edge of the sword, out of 
weakness were made strong, waxed valiant in fight, and turned to 
flight the armies of the aliens."* 

They then read again, in another part of the records of the house, 
where it was showed how willing their Lord was to receive into his 
favour any, even any, though they in time past had offered great 
affronts to his person and proceedings. Here also were several other 
histories of many other famous things, of ail which Christian had a 
view ; as of things both ancient and modern ; together with prophe- 
cies and predictions of things that have their certain accomplishment, 
both to the dread and amazement of enemies, and the comfort and 
solace of pilgrims. 

The next day they took him and had him into the armoury, where 
they showed him all manner of furniture, which their Lord had pro- 
vided for pilgrims, as sword, shield, helmet, breastplate, all-prayer, 
and shoes that would not wear out.f And there was here enough 
of this to harness out as many men for the service of their Lord as 
there be stars in the heaven for multitude. 

They also showed him some of the engines with which some of his 
servants had done wonderful things. They showed 
him Moses' rod ; the hammer and nail with which £ hri s s ^ e an ^gjj 
Jael slew Sisera ; the pitchers, trumpets, and lamps, things. 
too, with which Gideon put to flight the armies 
of Midian. Then they showed him the ox's goad wherewith Sham- 
gar slew six hundred men. They showed him also the jaw-bone 
with which Samson did such mighty feats. They showed him, 
moreover, the sling and stone with which David slew Goliath of 
Gath ; and the sword, also, with which their Lord will kill the Man 
of Sin, in the day that he shall rise up to the prey. They showed 
him, besides, many excellent things, with which Christian was much 
delighted. This done, they went to their rest again. 

Then I saw in my dream, that on the morrow he got up to go for- 
ward ; but they desired him to stay till the next day also ; and then, 
* Keb. xi. 33, 34. t Eph.vi. 13—19 



42 THE DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS. 

said they, we will, if the day be clear, show you the Delectable 
Mountains, which, they said, would yet further add to his comfort, 
because they were nearer the desired haven than the place where at 
present he was ; so he consented and stayed. When the morning 
was up, they had him to the top of the house, and bid him look south ; 
so lie did : and behold, at a great distance, he saw a most pleasant 
mountainous country, beautified with woods, vineyards, fruits of all 
sorts, flowers also, with springs and fountains, very delectable to 
behold.* Then he asked the name of the country. They said it 
was Emmanuel's Land ; and it is as common, said they, as this hill 
is, to and for all the pilgrims. And when thou comest there from 
thence, said they, thou mayest see to the gate of the Celestial City, 
as the shepherds that live there will make appear. 

Now he bethought himself of setting forward, and they were will- 
ing he should. But first, said they, let us go again into the armoury. 
So they did ; and when they came there, they harnessed him from 
head to foot with what was of proof, lest, perhaps, he should meet 
with assaults in the way. He being, therefore, thus accoutred, 
walketh out with his friends to the gate, and there he asked the porter 
if he saw any pilgrims pass by. Then the porter answered, Yes. 

Chr. Pray, did you know him ? said he. 

Por. I asked him his name, and he told me it was Faithful. 

Chr. Oh, said Christian, I know him ; he is my townsman, my 
near neighbour ; he comes from the place where I was born. How 
far do you think he may be before ? 

POR. He has got by this time below the hill. 

Chr. Well, said Christian, good Porter, the Lord be with thee, 
and add to all thy blessings much increase, for the kindness that 
thou hast showed to me. 

Then he began to go foiward ; but Discretion, Piety, Charity, and 
Prudence would accompany him down to the foot of the hill. So 
they went on together, reiterating their former discourses, till they 
came to go down the hill. Then said Christian, As it was difficult 
coming up, so, so far as I can see, it is dangerous going down. 
Yes, said Prudence, so it is, for it is a hard matter for a man to go 
down into the Valley of Humiliation, as thou art now, and to catch 
no slip by the way ; therefore, said they, are we come out to accom- 
pany thee down the hill. So he began to go down, but very warily ; 
yet he caught a slip or two. 

Then I saw in my dream that these good companions, when 
Christian was gone to the bottom of the hill, gave him a loaf of bread, 
a bottle of wine, and a cluster of raisins ; and then he went on his way. 

* Isa. xxxiii. 16, 17. 



THE VALLE Y OF HUM ILIA TION, 43 

But now, in this Valley of Humiliation, poor Christian was hard 
put to it ; for he had gone but a little way, before he espied a foul 
fiend coming over the field to meet him ; his name is Apollyon. 
Then did Christian begin to be afraid, and to cast in his mind 
whether to go back or to stand his ground. But he considered again 
that he had no armour for his back ; and therefore thought that to 
turn the back to him might give him the greater advantage with ease 
to pierce him with his darts. Therefore he resolved to venture and 
stand his ground ; for, thought he, had I no more in mine eye than 
the saving of my life, it would be the best way to stand. 

So he went on, and Apollyon met him. Now the monster was 
hideous to behold ; he was clothed with scales, like a fish (and they 
are his pride), he had wings like a dragon, feet like a bear, and out 
of his belly came fire and smoke, and his mouth was as the mouth 
of a lion. When he was come up to Christian, he beheld him with 
a disdainful countenance, and thus began to question with him. 

Apol. Whence come you ? and whither are you bound ? 

Chr. I am come from the City of Destruction, which is the place 
of all evil, and am going to the City of Zion. 

Apol. By this I perceive thou art one of my subjects, for all that 
country is mine, and I am the prince and god of it. How is it, 
then, that thou hast run away from thy king ? Were it not that I 
hope thou mayest do me more service, I would strike thee now, at 
one blow, to the ground. 

Chr. I was born, indeed, in your dominions, but your service 
was hard, and your wages such as a man could not live on, "for the 
wages of sin is death,"* therefore, when I was come to years, I did 
as other considerate persons do, look out, if, perhaps, I might mend 
myself. 

Apol. There is no prince that will thus lightly loose his subjects, 
neither will I as yet loose thee ; but since thou complainest of thy 
service and wages, be content to go back : what our country will 
afford, I do here promise to give thee. 

Chr. But I have let myself to another, even to the King of 
princes ; and how can I, with fairness, go back with thee? 

Apol. Thou hast done in this, according to the proverb, ' ' Changed 
a bad for a worse ;" but it is ordinary for those that have professed 
themselves his servants, after a while to give him the slip, and return 
again to me. Do thou so too, and all shall be well. 

Chr. I have given him my faith, and sworn my allegiance to 
him ; how, then, can I go back from this, and not be hanged as a 
traitor? 

♦ Rom. vi. 23. 



44 CHRISTIAN AND APOLLYON. 

Apol. Thou didst the same to me, and yet I am willing to pass by 
all, if now thou wilt yet turn again and go back. 

Chr. What I promised thee was in my nonage ; and, besides, I 
count the Prince under whose banner now I stand is able to absolve 
me ; yea, and to pardon also what I did as to my compliance with 
thee; and, besides, O thou destroying Apollyon ! to speak truth, I 
like his service, his wages, his servants, his government, his company 
and country, better than thine; and, therefore/ leave off to persuade 
me further; I am His servant, and I will follow Him. 

Apol. Consider, again, when thou art in cool blood, what thou 
art like to meet with in the way that thou goest. Thou knowest that, 
for the most part, His servants come to an ill end, because they are 
transgressors against me and my ways. How many of them have 
been put to shameful deaths; and, besides, thou countest His service 
better than mine, whereas he never came yet from the place where 
he is to deliver any that served him out of their hands ; but as for me, 
how many times, as all the world very well knows, have I delivered, 
either by power or fraud, those that have faithfully served me, from 
Him and His, though taken by them; and so I will deliver thee. 

Chr. His forbearing at present to deliver them is on purpose to 
try their love, whether they will cleave to Him to the end ; and as 
for the ill end thou sayest they come to, that is most glorious in their 
account; for, for present deliverance, they do not much expect it, 
for they stay for their glory, and then they shall have it, when their 
Prince comes in His and the glory of the angels. 

Apol. Thou hast already been unfaithful in thy service to Him ; 
and how dost thou think to receive wages of Him? 

Chr. Wherein, O Apollyon ! have I been unfaithful to Him ? 

Apol. Thou didst faint at first setting out, when thou wast almost 
choked in the Gulf of Despond; thou didst attempt wrong ways to 
be rid of thy burden, whereas thou shouldest have stayed till thy 
Prince had taken it off ; thou didst sinfully sleep and lose thy choice 
thing ; thou wast, also, almost persuaded to go back, at the sight of 
the lions ; and when thou talkest of thy journey, and of what thou 
hast heard and seen, thou art inwardly desirous of vainglory in all 
that thou sayest or doest. 

Chr. All this is true, and much more which thou hast left out; 

but the Prince whom I serve and honour is merciful, 

Christian's hu- anc j re ady to forgive ; but, besides, these infirmities 

possessed me in thy country, for there I sucked them 

in ; and I have groaned under them, been sorry for them, and have 

obtained pardon of my Prince. 

Apol. Then Apollyon broke out into a grievous rage, saying, I 



THE COMBAT. 45 

am an enemy to this Prince ; I hate his person, his laws, and people ; 
I am come out on purpose to withstand thee. 

Chr. Apollyon, beware what you do ; for I am in the king's high- 
way, the way of holiness ; therefore take heed to yourself. 

A POL. Then Apollyon straddled quite over the whole breadth of 
the way, and said, I am void of fear in this matter : prepare thyself 
to die ; for I swear by my infernal den, that thou shalt go no further ; 
here will I spill thy soul. 

And with that he threw a flaming dart at his breast ; but Christian 
had a shield in his hand, with which he caught it, and so prevented 
the danger of that. 

Then did Christian draw, for he saw it was time to bestir him : and 
Apollyon as fast made at him, throwing darts as thick as hail ; by 
the which, notwithstanding all that Christian could 
do to avoid it, Apollyon wounded him in his head, Christian h'~ 
his hand, and foot. This made Christian give a little understanding-, lb 
back; Apollyon therefore followed his work amain, faith, and conver- 
and Christian again took courage, and resisted as satlon ' 
manfully as he could. This sore combat lasted for above half a day, 
even till Christian was almost quite spent ; for you must know that 
Christian, by reason of his wounds, must needs grow weaker and 
weaker. 

Then Apollyon, espying his opportunity, began to gather up close 
to Christian, and wrestling with him, gave him a 
dreadful fall ; and with that Christian's sword flew Apollyon cast- 
out of his hand. Then said Apollyon, I am sure of ^roundlheChris^ 
thee now. And with that he had almost pressed him tian. 
to death, so that Christian began to despair of life : 
but as God would have it, while Apollyon was fetching of his last 
blow, thereby to make a full end of this good man, Christian nimbly 
stretched out his hand for his sword, and caught it, saying, " Rejoice 
not against me, O mine enemy : when I fall I shall arise, "* and with 
that gave him a deadly thrust, which made him give back, as one 
that had received his mortal wound. Christian perceiving that, made 
at him again, saying, ' ' Nay, in all these things we are more than 
conquerors through him that loved us."f And with that Apollyon 
spread forth his dragon's wings, and sped him away, that Christian 
for a season saw him no more. J 

In this combat no man can imagine, unless he had seen and heard 

as I did, what yelling and hideous roaring Apollyon made all the 

time of the fight — he spake like a dragon ; and, on the other side, 

what sighs and groans burst from Christian's heart. I never saw 

* Micah vii. 8 ; 2 Cor. xii. 9. t Rom. viii. 37. % James iv. 7. 



46 AFTER THE BATTLE. 

him all the while give so much as one pleasant look, till he per- 
ceived he had wounded Apollyon with his two-edged sword ; then, 
indeed, he did smile, and look upward ; but it was the dreadfulest 
sight that ever I saw. 

** A more unequal match can hardly be,— 
Christian must fight an Angel ; but you see. 
The valiant man by handling Sword and Shield, 
Doth make him, tho' a Dragon, quit the field." 

So when the battle was over, Christian said, "I will here give 
thanks to him that delivered me out of the mouth of the lion, to him 
that did help me against Apollyon." And so he did, saying — 

'• Grer.t: Beelzebub, the captain of this fiend, 
Design'd my ruin ; therefore to this end 
He sent him harness*d out : and he with rage, 
That hellish was, did fiercely me engage. 
But blessed Michael helped me, and I, 
By dint of sword, did quickly make him fly. 
Therefore to him let me give lasting praise, 
And thank and bless his holy name always." 

Then there came to him a hand, with some of the leaves of the 

tree of life,* the which Christian took, and applied to the wounds that 

he had received in the battle, and was healed immediately. He also 

sat down in that place to eat bread, and to drink of the bottle that 

was given him a little before ; so, being refreshed, he addressed 

himself to his journey, with his sword drawn in his hand ; for he 

said, I know not but some other enemy may be at hand. But he 

met with no other affront from Apollyon quite through this valley. , 

Now, at the end of this valley was another, called the Valley of 

the Shadow of Death, and Christian must needs go 

The valley of the through it, because the way to the Celestial City lay 

Shadow of Death. ., & , ' ... c .,_ < T ,« . ,, . J J 

through the midst of it. Now, this valley is a very 
solitary place. The prophet Jeremiah thus describes it : "A wilder- 
ness, a land of deserts and of pits, a land of drought, and of the 
shadow of death, a land that no man" (but a Christian) "passed 
through, and where no man dwelt."! 

Now here Christian was worse put to it than in his fight with 
Apollyon: as by the sequel you shall see. 

I saw then in my dream, that when Christian was got to the 

borders of the Shadow of Death, there met him two 

thUpie^obTck 5 men > children of them that brought up an evil report 

of the good land, % making haste to go back ; to whom 

Christian spake as follows : — 

Chr. Whither are you going ? 

* Rev. xxii. 2. t Jer. ii. 6. \ Num. xiii. 32. 



THE DITCH AND THE QUAG. 47 

Men. They said, Back ! back ! and we would have you to do so 
too, if either life or peace is prized by you. 

Chr. Why, what's the matter? said Christian. 

Men.. Matter ! said they ; we were going that way as you are 
going, and went as far as we durst ; and indeed we were almost past 
coming back ; for had we gone a little further, we had not been here 
to bring the news to thee. 

Chr. But what have you met with ? said Christian. 

Men. Why, we were almost in the Valley of the Shadow of Death ; 
but that, by good hap, we looked before us, and saw the danger 
before we came to it.* 

Chr. But what have you seen? said Christian. 

Men. Seen ! W T hy, the Valley itself, which is as dark as pitch ; 
we also saw there the hobgoblins, satyrs, and dragons of the pit ; 
we heard also in that Valley a continual howling and yelling, as of a 
people under unutterable misery, who there sat bound in affliction 
and irons ; and over that Valley hangs the discouraging clouds of 
confusion. Death also doth always spread his wings over it. In a 
word, it is every whit dreadful, being utterly without order, t 

Chr. Then, said Christian, I perceive not yet, by what you have 
said, but that this is my way to the desired haven. % 

Men. Be it thy way ; we will not choose it for ours. 

So they parted, and Christian went on his way, but still with his 
sword drawn in his hand, for fear lest he should be assaulted. 

I saw then in my dream so far as this valley reached, there was 
on the right hand a very deep ditch ; that ditch is it 
into which the blind have led the blind in all ages, . The dee P ditch 
and have both there miserably perished. § Again, ^presumptuous 
behold, on the left hand, there was a very dangerous 
quag, into which, if even a good man falls, he can find no bottom for 
his foot to stand on. Into that quag king David 
once did fall, and had no doubt therein been smo- The quag is " de- 
thered, had not He that is able plucked him out. spamngfear. 

The pathway was here also exceeding narrow, and therefore 
good Christian was the more put to it ; for when he sought, in the 
dark, to shun the ditch on the one hand, he was ready to tip over 
into the mire on the other ; also when he sought to escape the mire, 
without great carefulness he would be ready to fall into the ditch. 
Thus he went on, and I heard him here sigh bitterly : for, besides 
the dangers mentioned above, the pathway was here so dark, that 
ofttimes, when he lift up his foot to set forward, he knew not where 
or upon what he should set it next. 
V Psa. xliv. 18, 19 ; cvii. 10. t Job iii. 5 ; x. 22. % Jer. ii. 6. 4 Psa. lxix. 14, 15. 



48 CHRISTIAN SORELY TRIED. 

" Poor man ! where art thou now ? thy day is n : ght. 
Good man, be not cast down, thou yet art right, 
Thy way to Heaven lies by the gates of Hell ; 
Cheer up, hold out, with thee it shall go well." 

About the midst of this valley, I perceived the mouth of hell to be, 
and it stood also hard by the way-side. Now, thought Christian, 
what shall I do ? And ever and anon the flame and smoke would 
come out in such abundance, with sparks and hideous noises (things 
that cared not for Christian's sword, as did Apollyon before), that 
he was forced to put up his sword, and betake himself to another 
weapon, called All-prayer.* So he cried in my hearing, " O Lord, 
I beseech thee, deliver my soul !"t Thus he went on a great while, 
yet still the flames would be reaching towards him. Also he heard 
doleful voices, and rushings to and fro, so that sometimes he thought 
he should be. torn to pieces, or trodden down like mire in the streets. 
This frightful sight was seen, and these dreadful noises were heard 
by him for several miles together ; and, coming to a place where he 
thought he heard a company of fiends coming forward to meet him, 
he stopped, and began to muse what he had best to do. Sometimes 
he had half a thought to go back ; then again he thought he might 
be half way through the valley ; he remembered also how he had 
already vanquished many a clanger, and that the danger of going 
back might be much more than for to go forward ; so he resolved to 
go on. Yet the fiends seemed to come nearer and nearer ; but when 
they were come even almost at him, he cried out with a most vehe- 
ment voice, " I will walk in the strength of the Lord God ! ' so they 
gave back, and came no further. 

One thing I would not let slip : I took notice that now poor 
Christian was so confounded, that he did not know his own voice ; 
and thus I perceived it. Just when he was come over against the 
mouth of the burning pit, one of the wicked ones got behind him, 
and stept up softly to him, and whisperingly suggested many grie- 
vous blasphemies to him, which he verily thought had proceeded 
from his own mind. This put Christian more to it than anything 
that he met with before, even to think that he should now blaspheme 
him that he loved so much before ; yet, if he could have helped it, 
he would not have done it ; but he had not the discretion either to 
stop his ears, or to know from whence these blasphemies came. 

When Christian had travelled in this disconsolate condition some 
considerable time, he thought he heard the voice of a man, as going 
before him, saying, "Though I walk through the valley of the 
shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me. "% 

Then he was glad, and that for these reasons : 

* Eph. vi. 18. t Psa. cxvi. 4. J Psa. xxiii. 4. 




CHRISTIAN BEING ARMFD. P. 41. 




TALKATIVE AT HOME. P. 59 



POPE AND PAGAN. 49 

First, Because he gathered from thence, that some who feared God 
were in this valley as well as himself. 

Seco?idly, For that he perceived God was with them, though in 
that dark and dismal state ; and why not, thought he, with me? 
though by reason of the impediment that attends this place, I cannot 
perceive it.* 

Thirdly, For that he hoped, could he overtake them, to have com- 
pany by-and-by. So he went on, and called to him that was before ; 
but he knew not what to answer ; for that he also thought himself to 
be alone. And by-and-by the day broke; then said Christian, He 
hath turned " the shadow of death into the morning."! 

Now morning being come, he looked back, not out of desire to 
return, but to see, by the light of the day, what hazards he had gone 
through in the dark. So he saw more perfectly the ditch that was 
on the one hand, and the quag that was on the other ; also how 
narrow the way was which led betwixt them both ; also now he saw 
the hobgoblins, and satyrs, and dragons of the pit, but all afar off 
(for after break of day, they came not nigh), yet they were discovered to 
him, according to that which is written, " He discovereth deep things 
out of darkness, and bringeth out to light the shadow of death. "J 

Now was Christian much affected with his deliverance from all the 
dangers of his solitary way ; which dangers, though he feared them 
more before, yet he saw them more clearly now, because the light of 
the day made them conspicuous to him. And about this time the 
sun was rising, and th.s was another mercy to Christian ; for you 
must note, that though the first part of the Valley of the Shadow of 
Death was dangerous, yet this second part which he was yet to go, 
was, if possible, far more dangerous : for from the place where he 
now stood, even to the end of the valley, the way was all along set so 
full of snares, traps, gins and nets here, and so full of pits, pitfalls, 
deep holes, and shelvings down there, that, had it now been dark, 
as it was when he came the first part of the way, had he had a thou- 
sand souls, they had in reason been cast away ; but, as I said just 
now, the sun was rising. Then, said he, " His candle shineth upon 
my head, aftd by his light I walk throti^h darkness. "§ 

In this light, therefore, he came to the end of the valley. Now I 
saw in my dream, that at the end of this valley lay blood, bones, 
ashes, and mangled bodies of men, even of pilgrims that had gone 
this way formerly ; and while I was musing what should be the 
reason, I espied a little before me a cave, where two giants, POPE 
and PAGAN, dwelt in old time ; by whose power and tyranny the 
men whose bones, blood, ashes, &c., lay there, were cruelly put to 

* Job ix. 11. t Amos v. 8. % Job xii. 22. § Job xxix. 3. 

E 



5 o CHRISTIAN FRIENDSHIP. 

death. But by this place Christian went without much danger, 
whereat I somewhat wondered ; but I have learnt since, that 
PAGAN has been dead many a day ; and as for the other, though 
he be yet alive, he is, by reason of age, and also of the many shrewd 
brushes that he met with in his younger days, grown so crazy and 
stiff in his joints, that he can now do little more than sit in his cave's 
mouth, grinning at pilgrims as they go by, and biting his nails be- 
cause he cannot come at them. 

So I saw that Christian went on his way ; yet, at the sight of the 
Old Man that sat in the mouth of the cave, he could not tell what to 
think, especially because he spake to him, though he could not go 
after him, saying, "You will never mend till more of you be 
burned." But he held his peace, and set a good face on it, and so 
went by and catched no hurt. Then sang Christian — 

" O world of wonders ! (I can say no less) 
That I should be preserved in that distress 
That I have met with here ! O blessed be 
That hand that from it hath deliver' d me ! 
Dangers in darkness, devils, hell, and sin, 
Did compass me, while I this vale was in : 
Yea, snares and pits, and traps, and nets, did lie 
My path about, that worthless, silly I 
Might havTs been catch'd, entangled, and cast down : 
But since I live, let JESUS wear the crown." 

Now, as Christian went on his way, he came to a little ascent, 
which was cast up on purpose that pilgrims might see before them. 
Up there, therefore, Christian went, and looking forward, he saw 
Faithful before him, upon his journey. Then said Christian aloud, 
"Ho ! ho ! Soho ! stay, and I will be your companion !" At that, 
Faithful looked behind him ; to whom Christian cried again, " Stay, 
stay till I come up to you." But Faithful answered, "No, I am 
upon my life, and the avenger of blood is behind me."* 

At this Christian was somewhat moved, and putting to all his 
strength, he quickly got up with Faithful, and did also overrun him ; 
so the last was first. t Then did Christian vain-gloriously smile, 
because he had gotten the start of his brother ; but not taking good 
heed to his feet, he suddenly stumbled and fell, t and could not 
rise again until Faithful came up to help him. 

Then I saw in my dream they went very lovingly on together, and 
had sweet discourse of all things that had happened to them in 
their pilgrimage ; and thus Christian began : 

Chr. My honoured and well-beloved brother Faithful, I am 
glad that I have overtaken you ; and that God hath so tempered 

* Josh. xx. 2 — 6. t Matt. xix. 30. X 1 Cor. x. 12. 



PLIABLE AT HOME. 51 

our spirits, that we can walk as companions in this so pleasant u 
path. 

Faith. I had thought, dear friend, to have had your company 
quite from our town ; but you did get the start of me, wherefore I 
was forced to come thus much of the way alone. 

Chr. How long did you stay in the City of Destruction, before 
you set out after me on your pilgrimage ? 

Faith. Till I could stay no longer ; for there was great talk 
presently after you were gone out, that our city would, in short 
time, with fire from heaven, be burned down to the ground. 

Chr. What ! did your neighbours talk so ? 

Faith. Yes, it was for awhile in everybody's mouth. 

Chr. What ! and did no more of them but you come out to 
escape the danger ? 

Faith. Though there was, as I said, a great talk thereabout, yet 
I do not think they did firmly believe it. For in the heat of the 
discourse, I heard -some of them deridingly speak of you and of your 
desperate journey (for so they called this your pilgrimage), but I did 
believe, and do still, that the end of our city will be with fire and 
brimstone from above : and therefore I have made my escape. 

Chr. Did you hear no talk of neighbour Pliable ? 

Faith. Yes, Christian, I heard that he followed you till he came 
at the Slough of Despond, where, as some said, he fell in ; but he 
would not be known to have so done ; but I am sure he was 
soundly bedabbled with that kind of dirt. 

Chr. And what said the neighbours to him? 

Faith. He hath, since his going back, been had greatly in 
derision, and that among all sorts of people ; some do mock and 
despise him ; and scarce will any set him on work. He is now seven 
limes worse than if he had never gone out of the city 

Chr. But why should they be so set against him, since they also 
despise the way that he forsook ? 

Faith. Oh, they say, hang him, he is a turn-coat ! he was not 
true to his profession. I think God has stirred up even his enemies 
to hiss at him, and make him a proverb, because he hath forsaken 
the way.* 

Chr. Had you no talk with him before you came out. 

Faith. I met him once in the streets, but he leered away on the other 
side, as one ashamed of what he had done; so I spake not to him. 

Chr. Well, at my first setting out, I had hopes of that man ; but 
now I fear he will perish in the overthrow of the city. For it is 
happened to him according to the true proverb, ' ' The dog is turned 

* Jer. xxix, 18, 19. 



52 ADAM THE FIRST. 

to his own vomit again; and the sow that was washed, to her 
wallowing in the mire."* 

Faith. These are my fears of him too ; but who can hinder that 
which will be ? 

Chr. Well, neighbour Faithful, said Christian, let us leave him, 
and talk of things that more immediately concern ourselves. Tell me 
now, what you have met with in the way as you came ; for I know 
you have met with some things, or else it may be writ for a wonder. 

Faith. I escaped the Slough that I perceived you fell into, 
and got up to the gate without that danger, only I met with one 
whose name was Wanton, who had liked to have done me a 
mischief. 

Chr. It was well you escaped her net ; Joseph was hard put to 
it by her, and he escaped her as you did ; but it had like to have 
cost him his life.t But what did she do to you ? 

Faith. You cannot think, but that you know something, what a 
flattering tongue she had ; she lay at me hard to turn aside with her, 
promising me all manner of content. 

Chr. Nay, she did not promise you the content of a good 
conscience. 

Faith. You know what I mean ; all carnal and fleshly content. 

Chr. Thank God you have escaped her : "The abhorred of the 
Lord shall fall into her ditch. "J 

Faith. Nay, I know not whether I did wholly escape her or no. 

Chr. Why, I trow, you did not consent to her desires ? 

Faith. No, not to defile myself ; for I remembered an old 
writing that I had seen, which said, " Her steps take hold on hell."§ 
So I shut mine eyes, because I would not be bewitched with her 
looks. || Then she railed on me, and I went my way. 

Chr. Did you meet with no other assault as you came? 

Faith. When I came to the foot of the hill called Difficulty, I 
met with a very aged man, who asked me what I was, and whither 
bound. I told him that I am a pilgrim, going to the Celestial City. 
Then said the old man, Thou lookest like an honest fellow ; wilt 
thou be content to dwell with me for the wages that I shall give 
Chee? Then I asked him his name, and where he dwelt. He said 
his name was Adam the First, and that he dwelt in the town of 
Deceit. t I asked him then what was his work, and what the wages 
that he would give. He told me, that his work was many delights ; 
and his wages, that I should be his heir at last. I further risked 
him what house he kept, and what other servants he had. So he 

* 2 Pet. ii. 22. t Gen. xxxix. 11—13. X Ps»- xxii. 14. 

$ Psa. r. 5. II Job xxxi. 1. ^ Eph. iv. 22. 



THE TEMPER OF MOSES. 53 

told me that his house was maintained with all the dainties in the 
world ; and that his servants were those of his own begetting. Then 
I asked if he had any children. He said that he had but three 
daughters •: the Lust of the Flesh, the Lust of the Eyes, and the 
Pride of Life, and that I should marry them all if I would.* ,Then I 
asked how long time he would have me live with him ? And he told 
me, as long as he lived himself. 

Chr. Well, and what conclusion came the old man and you to 
at last? 

Faith. Why, at first, I found myself somewhat inclinable to go 
with the man, for I thought he spake very fair ; but looking in his 
forehead, as I talked with him, I saw there written, t ' Put off the 
old man with his deeds, "f 

Chr. And how then ? 

Faith. Then it came burning hot into my mind, whatever he 
said, and however he flattered, when he got me home to his house 
he would sell me for a slave. So I bid him forbear to talk, for I 
would not come near the door of his house. Then he reviled me, 
and told me that he would send such a one after me, that should 
make my way bitter to my soul. So I turned to go away from him ; 
but just as I turned myself to go thence, I felt^ him take hold of my 
flesh, and give me such a deadly twitch back, that I thought he had 
pulled part of me after himself. This made me cry, "Oh, wretched 
man \"t So I went on my way up the hill. 

Now when I had got about halfway up, I looked behind, and saw 
one coming after me, swift as the wind ; so he overtook me just 
about the place where the settle stands. 

Chr. Just there, said Christian, did I sit down to rest me ; 
but being overcome with sleep, I there lost this roll out of my 
bosom. 

Faith. But, good brother, hear me out. So soon as the man 
overtook me, he was but a word and a blow, for down he knocked 
me, and laid me for dead. But when I was a little come to myself 
again, I asked him wherefore he served me so. He said because of 
my secret inclining to Adam the First : and with that he struck me 
another deadly blow on the breast, and beat me down backward ; so 
I lay at his foot as dead as before. So, when I came to myself again, 
I cried him mercy ; but he said, I know not how to show mercy ; 
and with that knocked me down again. He had doubtless made an 
end of me, but that one came by, and bid him forbear. 

Chr. Who was that that bid him forbear? 

Faith. I did not know him at first, but as he went by, I pcr- 

* 1 John ii. 16. t Eph. iv. 22. i Rom. vii. 24. 



54 FAITHFUL MEETS DISCONTENT, 

ceived the holes in his hands and in his side ; then I concluded that 
he was our Lord. So I went up the hill. 

Chr. That man that overtook you was Moses. He spareth none, 
neither knoweth he how to show mercy to those that transgress his 
law. 

Faith. I know it very well ; it was not the first time that he has 
met with me. It was he that came to me when I dwelt securely at 
home, and that told me he would burn my house over my head if I 
stayed there. 

Chr. But did you not see the house that stood there on the top of 
the hill, on the side of which Moses met you? 

Faith. Yes, and the lions too, before I came at it : but for the 
lions, I think they were asleep, for it was about noon ; and because 
I had so much of the day before me, I passed by the porter, and 
came down the hill. 

Chr. He told me, indeed, that he saw you go by, but I wish you 
had called at the house, for they would have shown you so many 
rarities, that you would scarce have forgot them to the day of your 
death. But pray tell me. Did you meet nobody in the Valley of 
Humility ? 

Faith. Yes, I met with one Discontent, who would willingly have 
persuaded me to go back again with him ; his reason was, for that 
the valley was altogether without honour. He told me, moreover, 
that there to go was the way to disobey all my friends, as Pride, 
Arrogancy, Self-conceit, Worldly-glory, with others, who, he knew, 
as he said, would be very much offended, if I made such a fool of 
myself as to wade through this valley. 

Chr. Well, and how did you answer him? 

Faith. I told him that although all these that he named might 
claim kindred of me, and that rightly, for indeed they were my rela- 
tions according to the flesh ; yet since I became a pilgrim, they have 
disowned me, as I also have rejected them ; and therefore they were 
to me now no more than if they had never been of my lineage. 

I told him, moreover, that as to this valley, he had quite misrepre- 
sented the thing ; ' ' for before honour is humility, and a haughty 
spirit before a fall." Therefore, said I, I had rather go through this 
valley to the honour that was so accounted by the wisest, than choose 
that which he esteemed most worthy our affections. 

Chr. Met you with nothing else in that valley? 

Faith. Yes, I met with Shame ; but of all the men that I met 
with in my pilgrimage, he, I think, bears the wrong name. The 
others would be said nay, after a little argumentation, and somewhat 
else ; but this bold-faced Shame would never have done. 



FALSE SHAME. 55 

CHR. Why, what did he say to you ? 

Faith. What ! why, he objected against religion itself ; he said 
it was a pitiful, low, sneaking business, for a man to mind religion ; 
he said that a tender conscience was an unmanly thing ; and that for 
a man to watch over his words and ways, so as to tie up himself 
from that hectoring liberty that the brave spirits of the times accus- 
tomed themselves unto, would make him the ridicule of the times. 
He objected also, that but few of the mighty, rich, or wise were 
ever of my opinion ;* nor any of them, neither, before they were per- 
suaded to be fools, and to be of a voluntary fondness, to venture the 
loss of all for nobody knows what. He, moreover, objected to the 
base and low estate and condition of those that were chiefly the pil- 
grims, of the times in which they lived : also their ignorance and 
want of understanding in all natural science. Yea, he did hold me 
to it at that rate also, about a great many more things than here I 
relate ; as, that it was a shame to sit whining and mourning under a 
sermon, and a shame to come sighing and groaning home ; that it 
was a shame to ask my neighbour forgiveness for petty faults, or to 
make restitution where I have taken from any. He said, also, that 
religion made a man grow strange to the great, because of a few 
vices, which he called by finer names ; and made him own and re- 
spect the base, because of the same religious fraternity. And is not 
this, said he, a shame f 

Chr. And what did you say to him ? 

Faith. Say ! I could not tell what to say at the first. Yea, he 
put me so to it, that my blood came up in my face ; even this 
Shame fetched it up, and had almost beat me quite off. But at last 
I began to consider, that, "that which is highly esteemed among 
men, is had in abomination with God."t And I thought again, this 
Shame tells me what men are ; but it tells me nothing what God or 
the Word of God is. And I thought, moreover, that at the day of 
doom, we shall not be doomed to death or life according to the hec- 
toring spirits of the world, but according to the wisdom and law of 
the highest. Therefore, thought I, what God says is best, indeed is 
best, though all the men in the world are against it. Seeing, then, 
that God prefers his religion ; seeing God prefers a tender con- 
science ; seeing they that make themselves fools for the kingdom of 
heaven are wisest ; and that the poor man that loveth Christ is 
richer than the greatest man in the world that hates him ; Shame, 
depart, thou art an enemy to my salvation ! Shall I entertain thee 
against my sovereign Lord ? How then shall I look him in the face 
at his coming ? Should I now be ashamed of his ways and servants, 
* 1 Cor. i. 26, iii. 18 j Phil. iii. 7, 8 ; John vii. 48. t Luke xvi. 15. 



5 5 FAITHFUL REJOICES. 

how can I expect the blessing?* But, indeed, this Shame was a 
bold villain ; I could scarce shake him out of my company ; yea, he 
would be haunting of me, and continually whispering me in the ear, 
with some one or other of the infirmities that attend religion ; but at 
last I told him it was but in vain to attempt further in this business ; 
for those things that he disdained, in those did I see most glory ; and 
so at last I got past this importunate one. And when I had shaken 
him off, then I began to sing — 

" The trials that those men do meet withal, 
That are obedient to the heavenly call, 
Are manifold, and suited to the flesh, 
And come, and come, and come again afresh ; 
That now, or sometime else, we by them may 
Be taken, overcome, and cast away. 
Oh, let the pilgrims, let the pilgrims, then 
Be vigilant, and quit themselves like men." 

Chr. I am glad, my brother, that thou didst withstand this 
villain so bravely ; for of all, as thou sayest, I think he has the 
wrong name ; for he is so bold as to follow us in the streets, and to 
attempt to put us to shame before all men ; that is, to make us 
ashamed of that which is good ; but if he was not himself audacious, 
he would never attempt to do as he does. But let us still resist him ; 
for notwithstanding all his bravadoes, he promoteth the fool and 
none else. "The wise shall inherit glory," said Solomon; "but 
shame shall be the promotion of fools, "t 

Faith. I think we must cry to Him for help against Shame, Who 
would have us to be valiant for the truth upon the earth. 

Chr. You say true ; but did you meet nobody else in that valley? 

Faith. No, not I ; for I had sunshine all the rest of the way 
through that, and also through the Valley of the Shadow of Death. 

Chr. It was well for you. I am sure it fared far otherwise with me; 
I had for a long season, as soon almost as I entered into that valley, 
a dreadful combat with that foul fiend Apollvon ; yen, I thought 
verily he would have killed me, especially when lie got me down 
and crushed me under him, as if he would have crushed me to 
pieces ; for as he threw me my sword flew out of my hand ; nay, he 
told me he was sure of me : but I cried to God, and he heard me, 
and delivered me out of all my troubles. Then I entered into the 
Valley of the Shadow of Death, and had no light for almost half 
the way through it. I thought I should have been killed there 
over and over; but at last day broke, and the sun rose, and I 
went through that which was behind with far more ease and quiet. 

Moreover, I saw in my dream, that as they went on, Faithful, as 

* Maik viii. 3^. t Prov. iii. 35. 



THE Y MEE T TALK A TIVE. 57 

he chanced to look on one side, saw a man whose name is Talka- 
tive, walking at a distance beside them ; for in this place there was 
room enough for them all to walk. He was a tall man, and some- 
thing more comely at a distance than at hand. To this man 
Faithful addressed himself in this manner. 

Faith. Friend, whither away? Are you going to the heavenly 
country? 

Talk. I am going to the same place. 

Faith. That is well ; then I hope we may have your good 
company. 

Talk. With a very good will, will I be your companion. 

Faith. Come on, then, and let us go together, and let- us spend 
our time in discoursing of things that are profitable. 

Talk. To talk of things that are good, to me is very acceptable, 
with you or with any other ; and I am glad that I have met with 
those that incline to so good a work ; for, to speak the truth, there 
are but few that care thus to spare their time (as they are in their 
travels), but choose much rather to be speaking of things to no 
profit; and this hath been a trouble to me. 

Faith. That is indeed a thing to be lamented ; for what things 
so worthy of the use of the tongue and mouth of men on earth, as 
are the things of the God of heaven ? 

Talk. I like you wonderful well, for your sayings are full of 
conviction ; and I will add, what thing is so pleasant, and what so 
profitable, as to talk of the things of God ! What things so plea- . 
sant (that is, if a man hath any delight in things that are wonderful) ? 
For instance, if a man doth delight to talk of the history or the 
mystery of things ; or if a man doth love to talk of miracles, won- 
ders, or signs, where shall he find things recorded so delightful, and 
so sweetly penned, as in the Holy Scripture ? 

Faith. That is true ; but to be profited by such things in our 
talk should be that which we design. 

Talk. That is it that I said ; for to talk of such things is most 

profitable ; for by so doing, a man may get knowledge of many 

things ; as of the vanity of earthly things, and the benefit of things 

above. Thus, in general, but more particularly by this, a man may 

learn the necessity of the new birth, the insufficiency of our works, 

I the need of Christ's righteousness, &c. Besides, by this a man may 

| learn, by talk, what it is to repent, to believe, to pray, to suffer, or 

! the like ; by this also a man may learn what are the great promises 

and consolations of the gospel, to his own comfort. Further, by 

this a man may learn to refute false opinions, to vindicate the 

truth, and also to instruct the ignorant. 



58 VAIN PROFESSION. 

Faith. All this is true; and glad am I to hear these things from 
you. 

Talk. Alas ! the want of this is the cause why so few understand 
the need of faith, and the necessity of a work of grace in their soul, 
in order to eternal life ; but ignorantly live in the works of the 
law, by which a man can by no means obtain the kingdom of 
heaven. 

Faith. But, by your leave, heavenly knowledge of these is the 
gift of God ; no man attaineth to them by human industry, or only 
by the talk of them. 

Talk. All this I know very well ; for a man can receive nothing, 
except it be given him from heaven ; all is of grace, not of works. 
I could give you a hundred scriptures for the confirmation of this. 

Faith. Well, then, said Faithful, what is that one thing that we 
shall at this time found our discourse upon ? 

Talk. What you will. I will talk of things heavenly, or things 
earthly ; things moral, or things evangelical ; things sacred, or 
things profane ; things past, or things to come ; things foreign, or 
things at home ; things more essential, or things circumstantial ; 
provided that all be done to our profit. 

Faith. Now did Faithful begin to wonder ; and stepping to 
Christian (for he walked all this while by himself), he said to him 
(but softly), What a brave companion have we got ! Surely this 
man will make a very excellent pilgrim. 

Chr. At this Christian modestly smiled, and said, This man, 
with whom you are so taken, will beguile, with that tongue of his, 
twenty of them that know him not. 
Faith. Do you know him, then? 
Chr. Know him ! Yes, better than he knows himself. 
Faith. Pray, what is he ? 

Chr. His name is Talkative ; he dwelleth in our town. I 
wonder that you should be a stranger to him, only I consider 
that our town is large. 

Faith. Whose son is he ? And whereabout does he dwell ? 
Chr. He is the son of one Say-well ; he dwelt in Prating Row ; 
and is known of all that are acquainted with him, by the name of 
Talkative in Prating Row; and notwithstanding his fine tongue, he 
is but a sorry fellow. 

Faith. Well, he seems to be a very pretty man. 
Chr. That is, to them who have not thorough acquaintance with 
him ; for he is best abroad ; near home, he is ugly enough. Your 
saying that he is a pretty man, brings to my mind what I have ob- 
served in the work of the painter, whose pictures show best at a 
distance, but, very near, more unpleasing. 



LIP SERVICE. 59 

Faith. But I am ready to think you do but jest, because you smiled. 

Chr. God forbid that I should jest (although I smiled) in this 
matter, or that I should accuse any falsely ! I will give you a further 
discovery of him. This man is for any company, and for any talk ; 
as he talketh now with you, so will he talk when he is on the ale- 
bench ; and the more drink he hath in his crown, the more of these 
things he hath in his mouth ; religion hath no place in his heart, or 
house, or conversation ; all he hath, lieth in his tongue, and his re- 
ligion is, to make a noise therewith. 
j Faith. Say you so ! then am I in this man greatly deceived. 

Chr. Deceived ! you may be sure of it ; remember the proverb, 
' ' They say and do not. "* But the ' ' kingdom of God is not in word, 
but in power, "f He talketh of prayer, of repentance, 
of faith, and of the new birth : but he knows but only Talkative talks, 
to talk of them. I have been in his family, and have but does not> 
observed him both at home and abroad ; and I know what I say of 
him is the truth. His house is as empty of religion as the white of 
an egg is of savour. There is there neither prayer, nor sign of re- 
pentance for sin ; yea, the brute in his kind serves God far better 
than he. He is the very stain, reproach, and shame of religion, to 
all that know him ; it can hardly have a good word in all that end of 
the town where he dwells, through him. J Thus say the common 
people that know him, A saint abroad, and a devil at home. His 
poor family finds it so ; he is such a churl, such a railer at, and so 
unreasonable with his servants, that they neither know how to do 
for, or speak to him. Men that have any dealings with him, say it 
is better to deal with a Turk than with him ; for fairer dealing they 
shall have at their hands. This Talkative (if it be possible) will go 
beyond them, defraud, beguile, and overreach them. Besides, he 
brings up his sons to follow his steps ; and if he findeth in any of 
them a foolish timorousness (for so he calls the first appearance of a 
tender conscience), he calls them fools and blockheads, and by no 
means will employ them in much, or speak to their commendations 
before others. For my part, I am of opinion, that he has, by his 
wicked life, caused many to stumble and fall ; and will be, if God 
prevent not, the ruin of many more. 

Faith. Well, my brother, I am bound to believe you ; not only 
because you say you know him, but also because, like a Christian, 
you make your reports of men. For I cannot think that you speak 
these things of ill-will, but because it is even so as you say. 

Chr. Had I known him no more than you, I might perhaps have 
thought of him, as, at the first, you did ; yea, had he received this 
report at their hands only that are enemies to religion, I should have 
* Matt, xxiii. 3. ti Cor. iv. 20. J Rom. ii. 24, 23. 



60 SA YING AND DOING. 

thought it had been ? slander — a lot that often falls from bad men's 
mouths upon good men's names and professions ; but all these 
things, yea, and a great many more as bad, of my own knowledge, 
I can prove him guilty of. Besides, good men are ashamed of him ; 
they can neither call him brother, nor friend ; the very naming of 
him among them makes them blush, if they know him. 

Faith. Well, I see that saying and doing are two things, and 
hereafter I shall better observe this distinction. 

Ciik. They are two things, indeed, and are as diverse as are the 
soul and the body ; for as the body without the soul is but a dead 
carcass, so saying, if it be alone, is but a dead carcass also. The 
soul of religion is the practical part : " Pure religion and undefined, 
before God and the Father, is this, to visit the fatherless and widows 
in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world."* 
This Talkative is not aware of ; he thinks that hearing and saying 
will make a good Christian, and thus he deceiveth his own soul. 
Hearing is but as the sowing of the seed ; talking is not sufficient to 
prove that fruit is indeed in the heart and life ; and let us assure 
ourselves, that at the day of doom men shall be judged according to 
their fruits. f It will not be said then, Did you believe? but, Were 
you doers, or talkers only ? and accordingly shall they be judged. 
The end of the world is compared to our harvest ; and you know 
men at harvest regard nothing but fruit. Not that anything can be 
accepted that is not of faith, but I speak this to show you how insigni- 
ficant the profession of Talkative will be at that day. 

Faith. This brings to my mind that of Moses, by which he de- 
scribeth the beast that is clean 4 He is such a one that parteth the 
hoof and cheweth the cud ; not that parteth the hoof only, or that 
cheweth the cud only. The hare cheweth the cud, but yet is unclean, 
because he parteth not the hoof. And this truly resembleth Talka- 
tive ; he cheweth the cud, he seeketh knowledge, he cheweth upon 
the word ; but he divideth not the hoof, he parteth not with the way 
of sinners ; but, as the hare, he retaincth the foot of a dog or bear, 
and therefore he is unclean. 

Chr. You have spoken, for aught I know, the true gospel-sense 
of those texts. And I will add another thing :,Paul calleth some 
men, yea, and those great talkers, too, " sounding brass and tinkling 
cymbals," that is, as he expounds them in another place, "things 
without life, giving sound. "§ Things without life, that is, without 
the true faith and grace of the gospel ; and consequently, things that 
shall never be placed in the kingdom of heaven among those that 

* James i. 27 ; see ver. 22—26. + Matt. xiii. 2?. 

X I-ev. xi. ; Deut. xiv. $ 1 Cor. xiii. 1 — 3; xiv. 7. 



TALKATIVE 'S OPINIONS. 61 

are the children of life ; though their sound, by their talk, be as if it 
were the tongue or voice of an angel. 

Faith. Well, I was not so fond of his company at first, but I am 
as sick of it now. What shall we do to be rid of him ? 

Chk. Take my advice, and do as I bid you, and you shall find 
that he will soon be sick of your company too, except God shall 
touch his heart, and turn it. 

Faith. What would you have me to do? 

Chr. Why, go to him, and enter into some serious discourse 
about the power of religion ; and ask him plainly (when he has 
approved of it, for that he will) whether this thing be set up in his 
heart, house, or conversation. 

Faith. Then Faithful stepped forward again, and said to Talka- 
tive, Come, what cheer ? How is it now ? 

Talk. Thank you, well. I thought we should have had a great 
deal of talk by this time. 

Faith. Well, if you will, we will fall to it now ; and since you left 
it with me to state the question, let it be this : How doth the saving 
grace of God discover itself, when it is in the heart of man ? 

Talk. I perceive, then, that our talk must be about the power of 
things. Well, it is a very good question, and I shall be willing to 
answer you. And take my answer in brief, thus : First, Where 
the grace of God is in the heart, it causeth there a great outcry 
against sin. Secondly 

Faith. Nay, hold, let us consider of one at once. I think you 
should rather say, It shows itself by inclining the soul to abhor its sin. 

Talk. Why, what difference is there between crying out against, 
and abhorring of sin ? 

Faith. Oh, a great deal. A man may cry out The crying- out 
against sin of policy, but he cannot abhor it, but by against sin no 
virtue of a godly antipathy against it. I have heard Slgn ° £ race - 
many cry out against sin in the pulpit, who yet can 
abide it well enough in the heart, house, and conversation. Jo- 
seph's mistress cried out with a loud voice, as if she had been very 
holy ; but she would willingly, notwithstanding that, have committed 
uncleanness with him.* Some cry out against sin, even as the 
mother cries out against her child in her lap, when she calleth it 
slut and naughty girl, and then falls to hugging and kissing it. 

Talk. You lie at the catch, I perceive. 

Faith. No, not I ; I am only for setting things right. But what 
is the second thing whereby you would prove a discovery of a work 
of grace in the heart ? 

* Gen. xxxix. 15, 



62 KNOWLEDGE— TRUE AND FALSE. 

Talk. Great knowledge of gospel mysteries. 

Faith. This sign should have been first ; but first or last, it is 
also false ; for knowledge, great knowledge, may be 
Great knowledge obtained in the mysteries of the gospel, and yet no 
-ao sign of grace. WO rk of grace in the soul.* Yea, if a man have all 
knowledge, he may yet be nothing, and so conse- 
quently be no child of God. When Christ said, "Do you know all 
these things?" and the disciples had answered, Yes; he addeth, 
" Blessed are ye if ye do them." He doth not lay the blessing in 
the knowing of them, but in the doing of them. For there is a 
knowledge that is not attended with doing : ' ' He that knoweth his 
master's will, and doeth it not." A man may know like an angel, 
and yet be no Christian, therefore your sign of it is not true. 
Indeed, to know is a thing that pleaseth talkers and boasters ; 
but to do is that which pleaseth God. Not that the heart can 
be good without knowledge ; for without that the heart is naught. 
There is, therefore, knowledge and knowledge. Knowledge that 
resteth in the bare speculation of things ; and 
£owied?e° f knowledge that is accompanied with the grace of 

faith and love ; which puts a man upon doing even 
the will of God from the heart : the first of these will serve the 
talker ; but without the other the true Christian is 
JtSndedwIth^n 6 - not content - "Give me understanding, and I shall 
Seavours.^ 1 keep thy law ; yea, I shall observe it with my whole 

heart."! 

Talk. You lie at the catch again ; this is not for edification. 

Faith. Well, if you please, propound another sign how this work 
of grace discovereth itself where it is. 

Talk. Not I, for I see we shall not agree. 

Faith. Well, if you will not, will you give me leave to do it ? 

Talk. You may use your liberty. 

Faith. A work of grace in the soul discovereth itself, either to 
him that hath it, or to standers by. 

To him that hath it thus : It gives him conviction of sin, espe- 
cially of the defilement of his nature and the sin of unbelief (for the 
sake of which he is sure to be damned, if he findeth not mercy at 
God's hand, by faith in Jesus Christ) .% This sight and sense of things, 
worketh in him sorrow and shame for sin ; he findeth, moreover, 
revealed in him the Saviour of the world, and the absolute necessity 
of closing with him for life, at the which he findeth hungerings and 
thirstings after him ; to which hungerings, &&, the promise is made.J 

* i Cor. xiii. t Psa. cxix. 34. 

X John xvi. 8; Rom. vii. 24; John xvi. 9; Mark xvi. 16. 

$ Psa. xxxviii. 18; Jer. xxxi. 19; Gal. ii. 16; Acts iv. 12; Matt. v. 6; Rev. xxi. 6. 



TALK A TIVE DISC ONCER TED. 6 3 

Now, according to the strength or weakness of his faith in his Sa- 
viour, so is his joy and peace, so is his love to holiness, so are his 
desires to know him more, and also to serve him in this world. But 
though I say it discovereth itself thus unto him, yet it is but seldom 
that he is able to conclude that this is a work of grace ; because his 
corruptions now, and his abused reason, make his mind to misjudge 
in this matter ; therefore, in him that hath this work, there is re- 
quired a very sound judgment before he can, with steadiness, con- 
clude that this is a work of grace. 

To others, it is thus discovered : 

i. By an experimental confession of his faith in Christ.* 

2. By a life answerable to that confession ; to wit, a life of holi- 
ness, heart-holiness, family-holiness (if he hath a family), and by 
conversation-holiness in the world ; which, in the general teacheth 
him, inwardly, to abhor his sin, and himself for that, in secret ; to 
suppress it in his family, and to promote holiness in the world ; not 
by talk only, as a hypocrite or talkative person may do, but by a 
practical subjection, in faith and love, to the power of the Word, t 
And now, Sir, as to this brief description of the work of grace, and 
also the discovery of it, if you have aught to object, object ; if not, 
then give me leave to propound to you a second question. 

Talk. Nay, my part is not now to object, but to hear ; let me, 
therefore, have your second question. 

Faith. It is this : Do you experience this first part of this de- 
scription of it? and doth your life and conversation testify the 
same ? or standeth your religion in word or in tongue, and not in 
deed and truth ? Pray, if you incline to answer me in this, say no 
more than you know the God above will say Amen to ; and also 
nothing but what your conscience can justify you in ; "for, not he 
that commendeth himself is approved, but whom the Lord com- 
mendeth." Besides, to say I am thus and thus, when my conversa- 
tion, and all my neighbours, tell me I lie, is great wickedness. 

Talk. Then Talkative at first began to blush ; but, recovering 
himself, thus he replied : You come now to experience, to conscience, 
and God ; and to appeal to him for justification of what is spoken. 
This kind of discourse I did not expect ; nor am I disposed to give 
an answer to such questions, because I count not myself bound 
thereto, unless you take upon you to be a catechizer, and, though 
you should so do, yet I may refuse to make you my judge. But, I 
pray, will you tell me why you ask me such questions ? 

Faith. Because I saw you forward to talk, and because I knew 

* Rom. x. 10 ; Matt. x. 32; Luke xii. 8. 
t John xiv. 15 ; Psa. 1. 23 ; 1 John v. 2 ; Gal. vi. 7 ; Heb. xii. 14. 



64 HEART-WORK. 

not that you had aught else but notion. Besides, to tell you all 
the truth, I have heard of you, that you are a man whose religion 
lies in talk, and that your conversation gives this your mouth-pro- 
fession the lie. They say you are a spot among Christians ; and 
that religion fareth the worse for your ungodly conversation ; that 
some have already stumbled at your wicked ways, and that more are 
in danger of being destroyed thereby ; your religion, and an ale- 
house, and covetousness, and uncleanness, and swearing, and lying, 
and vain-company keeping, Sec, will stand together. The proverb 
is true of you which is said of a harlot, to wit, that she is a shame 
to all women ; so are you a shame to all professors. 

Talk. Since you are ready to take up reports and to judge so 
rashly as you do, I cannot but conclude you are some peevish 
or melancholy man, not fit to be discoursed with ; and so adieu. 

Chr*. Then came up Christian, and said to his brother, I told 
you how it would happen : your words and his lusts could not 
agree ; he had rather leave your company than reform his life. But 
he is gone, as I said ; let him go, the )oss is no man's but his own ; 
he has saved us the trouble of going from him ; for he continuing 
(as I suppose he will do) as he is, he would have been but a blot in 
our company : besides, the apostle says, ' ' From such withdraw 
thyself." 

Faith. But I am glad we had this little discourse with him ; it 
may happen that he will think of it again : however, I have dealt 
plainly with him, and so am clear of his blood, if he perisheth. 

Chr. You did well to talk so plainly to him as you did ; there is 
but little of this faithful dealing with men now-a-days, and that 
makes religion to stink so in the nostrils of many, as it doth ; for 
they are these talkative fools, whose religion is only in word, and are 
debauched and vain in their conversation, that (being so much ad- 
mitted into the fellowship of the godly) do puzzle the world, blemish 
Christianity, and grieve the sincere. I wish that all men would deal 
with such as you have done : then should they either be made more 
conformable to religion, or the company of saints would be too hot 
for them. Then did Faithful say, 

" How Talkative at first lifts up his plumes ! 
How bravely doth he speak ! How he presumes 
To drive down all before him ! But so soon 
As Faithful talks of heart-work, like the moon 
That's past the full, into the wane he goes. 
And so will all, but he that HEART-WORK knows." 

Thus they went on talking of what they had seen by the way, 
and so made that way easy which would otherwise, no doubt, have 
been tedious to them ; for now they went through a wilderness. 

Now, when they were got almost quite out of this wilderness, Faithful 




I 



VANITY FAIR. P. 63, 




LORD HATEGOOD. P /O. 



EVANGELIST MEETS THEM. 

chanced to cast his eye back, and espied one coming after trff 
and he knew him. Oh ! said Faithful to his brother, who comes* 
yonder? Then Christian looked, and said, It is my good friend 
Evangelist. Aye, and my good friend too, says Faithful, for it was 
he that set me the way to the gate. Now was Evangelist come up 
to them, and thus saluted them": 

Evan. Peace be with you, dearly beloved ; and peace be to your 
helpers. 

Chr. Welcome, welcome, my good Evangelist ; the sight of thy 
countenance brings to" my remembrance thy ancient kindness and 
unwearied labouring for my eternal good. 

Faith. And a thousand times welcome, said good Faithful. 
Thy company, O sweet Evangelist, how desirable it is to us poor 
pilgrims ! 

Evan. Then, said Evangelist, How hath it fared with you, my 
friends, since the time of Our last parting ? What have you met 
with, and how have you behaved yourselves ? 

Then Christian and Faithful told him of all things that had hap- 
pened to them in the way ; and how, and with what difficulty, they 
had arrived to that place. 

Evan. Right glad am I, said Evangelist, not that you have met 
with trials, but that you have been victors ; and for that you have, 
notwithstanding many weaknesses, continued in the way to this 
very day. 

I say, right glad am I of this thing, and that for mine own sake 
and yours. I have sowed, and you have reaped : and the day is 
coming, when both he that sowed and they that reaped shall re- 
joice together ; that is, if you hold out : ' ' for in due season ye 
shall reap, if ye faint not."* The crown is before you, and it is an 
incorruptible one ; " so run, that you may obtain it. "t Some there 
be that set out for this crown, and, after they have gone far for it, 
another comes in, and takes it from them : hold fast, therefore, that 
you have ; let no man take your crown. $ You are not yet out of 
the gun-shot of the devil ; you have not resisted unto blood, striving 
against sin ; let the kingdom be always before you, and believe 
steadfastly concerning things that are invisible. Let nothing that 
is on this side the other world get within you ; and, above all, 
look well to your own hearts, and to the lusts thereof, ' ' for they are 
deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked ;" set your faces 
like a flint ; you have all power in heaven and earth on your side. 

Chr. Then Christian thanked him for his exhortation ; but told 
him, withal, that they would have him speak further to them for 

* John iv. 36 ; Gal. vi. 9. t x Cor. «c. 24—27. % Rev. iii. ix. 

F 



VANITY FAIR. 

the rest of the way, and the rather, for that they well 
^new that he was a prophet, and could tell them of things that 
might happen unto them, and also how they might resist and over- 
come them. To which request Faithful also consented. So Evan- 
gelist began as followeth : — 

Evan. My sons, you have heard, in the words of the truth of the 
gospel, that you must, through many tribulations, enter into the 
kingdom of heaven. And, again, that in every city bonds and afflic- 
tions abide you ; and therefore you cannot expect that you should 
go long on your pilgrimage without them, in some sort or other. You 
have found something of the truth of these testimonies upon you 
already, and more will immediately follow ; for now, as you see, you 
are almost out of this wilderness, .and therefore you will soon come 
into a town that you will by-and-by see before you ; and in that town 
you will be hardly beset with enemies, who will strain hard but they 
Will kill you ; and be you sure that one or both of you must seal the 
testimony which you hold, with blood ; but be you faithful unto 
death, and the King will give you a crown of life. He that shall 
die there, although his death will be unnatural, and his pain perhaps 
great, he will yet have the better of his fellow ; not only because he 
will be arrived at the Celestial City soonest, but because he will 
escape many miseries that the other will meet with in the rest of his 
journey. But when you are come to the town, and shall find fulfilled 
what I have here related, then remember your friend, and quit your- 
selves like men, and "commit the keeping of your souls to your God 
in well-doing, as unto a faithful Creator."* 

Then I saw in my dream, that when they were got out of the 
wilderness, they presently saw a town before them, and the name of 
that town is Vanity ; and at the town there is a fair kept, called 
Vanity Fair : it is kept all the year long ; it beareth the name of Vanity 
Fair because the town where it is kept is lighter than vanity ; and 
also because all that is there sold, or that cometh thither, is vanity. 
As is the saying of the wise, "all that cometh is vanity, "t 

This fair is no new-erected business, but a thing of ancient stand- 
ing ; I will show you the original of it. 

Almost five thousand years agone, there were pilgrims walking to 

the Celestial City, as these two honest persons are : 

The antiquity of an d Beelzebub, Apollyon, and Legion, with their 

vanity ^air. companions, perceiving by the path that the pilgrims 

made, that their way to the city lay through this town of Vanity, 

they contrived here to set up a fair ; a fair wherein should be sold all 

sorts of vanity, and that it should last all the year long : therefore at 

* i Teter far. 19. t Eccles. i. ; ii. tx, 17 ; xi. 8 ; Isa. xl. 17. 



ALL MUST PASS THROUGH IT. 6 7 

this fair are all such merchandize sold, as houses, lands, trades, 
places, honours, preferments, titles, countries, kingdoms, lusts, 
pleasures and delights of all sorts, as harlots, bawds, wives, husbands, 
children, masters, servants, lives, blood, bodies, souls, silver, gold, 
pearls, precious stones, and what not. 

And, moreover, at this fair there is at all times to be seen jug- 
gling, cheats, games, plays, fools, apes, knaves, and rogues, and 
that of every kind. 

Here are to be seen, too, and that for nothing, thefts, murders, 
adulteries, false swearers, and that of a blood-red colour. 

And as in other fairs of less moment, there are the several rows and 
streets, under their proper names, where such and such wares are 
vended ; so here likewise you have the proper places, rows, streets 
(viz. countries and kingdoms), where the wares of this fair are soonest 
to be found. Here is the Britain Row, the French Row, the Italian 
Row, the Spanish Row, the German Row, where several sorts of 
vanities are to be sold. But, as in other fairs, some one commodity 
is as the chief of all the fair, so the ware of Rome and her mer- 
chandize is greatly promoted in this fair ; only our English nation, 
with some others, have taken a dislike thereat. 

Now, as I said, the way to the Celestial City lies just through 
this town where this lusty fair is kept ; and he that will go to the 
City, and yet not go through this town, must needs "go out of the 
world."* The Prince of princes himself, when here, 
went through this town to his own country, and that .. Christ went 

r • j j. -i t j.i • i •: t> -i through this lair. 

upon a fair day too ; yea, and as I think, it was Beel- 
zebub, the chief lord of this fair, that invited him to buy of his 
vanities ; yea, would have made him lord of the fair, would he but 
have done him reverence as he went through the town.f Yea, 
because he was such a person of honour, Beelzebub had him from 
street to street, and showed him all the kingdoms of the world in a 
little timet that he might, if possible, allure the Blessed 
One to cheapen and buy some of his vanities ; but he Christ bought no- 
had no mind to the merchandize, and therefore left t g m 
the town, without laying out so much as one farthing upon these 
vanities. This fair, therefore, is an ancient thing, of long standing, 
and a very great fair. Now these pilgrims, as I said, must needs go 
through this fair. Well, so they did : but, behold, even as they 
entered into the fair, all the people in the fair were moved, and the 
town itself, as it were, in a hubbub about them ; and that for several 
reasons : for — 

First, The pilgrims were clothed with such kind of raiment as was 

* i Cor. v. 10. t Matt. iy. 8 ; Luke ir. 5—8. J Luke iv. 5. 

F2 



63 CHRISTIAN IMPRISONED. 

diverse from the raiment of any that traded in that fair. Thepeople, 
therefore, of the fair, made a great gazing upon them : some said 
they were foois, some they were bedlams, and some they are out- 
landish men.* 

Secondly, And as they wondered at their apparel, so they did 
likewise at their speech ; for few could understand what they said ; 
they naturally spoke the language of Canaan, but they that kept the 
fair were the men of this world ; so that, from one end of the fair to 
the other, they seemed barbarians each to the other, f 

Thirdly, But that which did not a little amuse the merchandizes 
was, that these pilgrims set very light by all their 
Thir hubbub° fthe wares > tne y care( i not so much as to look upon them ; 
and if they called upon them to buy, they would put 
their fingers in their ears, and cry, "Turn away mine eyes from be- 
holding vanity," and look upwards, signifying that their trade and 
traffic was in heaven. J 

One chanced mockingly, beholding the carriage of the men, to 
say unto them, What will ye buy ? But they, looking gravely upon 
him, answered, " We buy the truth. "§ At that there was an occasion 
taken to despise the men the more ; some mocking, some taunting, 
some speaking reproachfully, and some calling upon others to smite 
them. At last things came to a hubbub and great stir in the fair, 
insomuch that all order was confounded. Now was word presently 
brought to the great one of the fair, who quickly came down, and 
deputed some of his most trusty friends to take these men into ex- 
amination, about whom the fair was almost overturned. So the men 
were brought to examination ; and they that sat upon them, asked 
them whence they came, whither they went, and what they did there, 
in such an unusual garb ? The men told them that they were 
pilgrims and strangers in the world, and that they were going to 
their own country, which was the heavenly Jerusalem,)! and that they 
had given no occasion to the men of the town, nor yet to the merchan- 
dizes, thus to abuse them, and to let them in their journey, except 
it was for that, when one asked them what they would buy, they 
said they would buy the truth. But they that were appointed to 
examine them did not believe them to be any other than bedlams 
and mad, or else such as came to put all things into a confusion in 
the fair. Therefore they took them and beat them, and besmeared 
them with dirt, and then put them into the cage, that 
Thcy^nre^put in tliey might be made a spectacle to all the men of the 

e cage. ^.^ 

* i Cor. i. 8 ; iv. 9. f Cor. xi. 14. \ Psa. cxix. 37 ; Phil. iii. 19—21. 

S Prov. xxiii. 23. II Heb. ix. 13—16. 



CRUEL PERSECUTION. 6 9 

" Behold Vanity Fair ! the Pilgrims there 
Are chained and stoned beside ; 
Even so it was our Lord pass'd here, 
And on Mount Calvary died." 

There, therefore, they lay for some time, and were made the 
objects of any man's sport, or malice, or revenge, the great one of 
the fair laughing still at all that befell them. But the men being 
patient, and not rendering railing for railing, but con- 
trariwise, blessing, and giving good words for bad, and of chrisSan V and 
kindness for injuries done, some men in the fair that Faithful in the 
were more observing, and less prejudiced than the cave> 
rest, began to check and blame the baser sort for their continual 
abuses done by them to the men ; they, therefore, in angry manner, 
let fly at them again, counting them as bad as the men in the cage, 
and telling them that they seemed confederates, and should be 
made partakers of their misfortunes. The other replied, that for 
aught they could see, the men were quiet and sober, and intended 
nobody any harm ; and that there were many that traded in their 
fair that were more worthy to be put into the cage, yea, and pillory 
too, than were the men they had abused. Thus, after divers words 
had passed on both sides, the men behaving themselves all the while 
very wisely and soberly before them, they fell to some blows among 
themselves, and did harm one to another. Then were these two 
poor men brought before their examiners again, and there charged as 
being guilty of the late hubbub that had been in the fair. So they beat 
them pitifully, and hanged irons upon them, and led them in chains 
up and down the fair, for an example and a terror to others, lest any 
should speak in their behalf, or join themselves unto them. But 
Christian and Faithful behaved themselves yet more wisely, and re- 
ceived the ignominy and shame that was cast upon them, with so 
much meekness and patience, that it won to their Some of the 
side, though but few in comparison of the rest, men of the fair 
several of the men in the fair. This put the other won to them - 
party yet into greater rage, insomuch that they concluded the death 
of these two men. Wherefore they threatened Their adversa- 
that the cage nor irons should serve their turn, saries resolve to 
but that they should die, for the abuse they had klllthem - 
done, and for deluding the men of the fair. 

Then were they remanded to the cage again, until further order 
should be taken with them. So they put them in, and made their 
feet fast in the stocks. 

Here, therefore, they called again to mind what they had heard 
from their faithful friend Evangelist, and were the more confirmed in 
their way and sufferings, by what he told them would happen to 



7 o THE TRIAL. 

them. They also now comforted each other, that whose lot it was 
to suffer, even he should have the best of it ; therefore each man 
secretly wished that he might have that preferment : but committing 
himself to the all-wise disposal of Him that ruleth all things, with 
much content, they abode in the condition in which they were, until 
they should be otherwise disposed of. 

Then a convenient time being appointed, they brought them forth 
to their trial, in order to their condemnation. When the time was 
come, they were brought before their enemies and arraigned. The 
Judge's name was Lord Hate-good. Their indictment was one and 
the same in substance, though somewhat varying in form, the 
contents whereof were this : — 

"That they were enemies to and disturbers of their trade; that 
they had made commotions and divisions in the town, and had won a 
party to their own most dangerous opinions, in contempt of the law of 
their prince." 

" Now, FAITHFUL, play the man, speak for thy God : 
Fear not the wicked's malice, nor their rod : 
Speak boldly, man, the truth is on thy side : 
Die for it, and to Life in triumph ride." 

Then Faithful began to answer, that he had only set himself 
against that which hath set itself against Him that is higher than 
the highest. And, said he, as for disturbance, I make none, being 
myself a man of peace ; the parties that were won to us, were won 
by beholding our truth and innocence, and they are only turned 
from the worse to the better. And as to the king you talk of, since 
he is Beelzebub, the enemy of our Lord, I defy him and all his 
angels. 

Then proclamation was made, that they that had aught to say for 
their lord the king against the prisoner at the bar, should forthwith 
appear and give in their evidence. So there came in three witnesses, 
to wit, Envy, Superstition, and Pickthank. They were then asked 
if they knew the prisoner at the bar ; and what they had to say for 
their lord the king against him. 

Then stood forth Envy, and said to this effect : My Lord, I have 
known this man a long time, and will attest upon my oath before 
this honourable bench that he is — 

Judge. Hold! Give him his oath. (So they sware him.) Then 
he said — 

Envy. My Lord, this man, notwithstanding his plausible name, 
is one of the vilest men in our country. He neither regardeth prince 
nor people, law nor custom ; but doth all that he can to possess all 
men with certain of his disloyal notions, which he in the general 
calls principles of faith and holiness. And, in particular, I heard 



THE WITNESSES. 7* 

him once myself affirm that Christianity and the customs of our 
town of Vanity were diametrically opposite, and could not be recon- 
ciled. By which saying, my Lord, he doth at once not only con- 
demn all our laudable doings, but us in the doing of them. 

Judge. Then did the Judge say to him, Hast thou any more 
to say ? 

Envy. My Lord, I could say much more, only I would not be 
tedious to the court. Yet, if need be, when the other gentlemen 
have given in their evidence, rather than anything shall be wanting 
that will despatch him, I will enlarge my testimony against him. 
So he was bid to stand by. 

Then they called Superstition, and bid him look upon the prisoner. 
They also asked, what he could say for their lord the king against 
him. Then they sware him : so he began. 

Sup. My Lord, I have no great acquaintance with this man, nor 
do I desire to have further knowledge of him ; however, this I 
know, that he is a very pestilent fellow, from some discourse that, 
the other day, I had with him in this town ; for then, talking with 
him, I heard him say, that our religion was nought, and such by 
which a man could by no means please God. Which sayings of 
his, my Lord, your Lordship very well knows, what necessarily 
thence will follow, to wit, that we do still worship in vain, are yet in 
our sins, and finally shall be damned ; and this is that which I have 
to say. 

Then was Pickthank sworn, and bid say what he knew, in behalf 
of their lord the king, against the prisoner at the bar. 
. Pick. My Lord, and you gentlemen all, This fellow I have known 
of a long time, and have heard him speak things that ought not to 
be spoke ; for he hath railed on our noble prince Beelzebub, and 
hath spoken contemptibly of his honourable friends, whose names 
are the Lord Old Man, the Lord Carnal Delight, the Lord 
Luxurious, the Lord Desire of Vain Glory, my old Lord Lechery, 
Sir Having Greedy, with all the rest of our nobility ; and he hath 
said, moreover, That if all men were of his mind, if possible, there is 
not one of these noblemen should have any longer a being in this 
town. Besides, he hath not been afraid to rail on you, my Lord, who 
are now appointed to be his judge, calling you an ungodly villain, 
with many other such like vilifying terms, with which he hath be- 
spattered most of the gentry of our town. 

When this Pickthank had told his tale, the Judge directed his 
speech to the prisoner at the bar, saying, Thou runagate, heretic, 
and traitor, hast thou heard what these honest gentlemen have 
witnessed against thee ? 



72 FAITHFULS DEFENCE. 

Faith. May I speak a few words in my own defence ? 

Judge. Sirrah ! Sirrah ! thou deservest to live no longer, but to 
be slain immediately upon the place ; yet, that all men may see our 
gentleness towards thee, let us hear what thou, vile runagate, hast 
to say. 

Faith, i. I say, then, in answer to what Mr. Envy hath spoken, 
I never said aught but this, That what rule, or laws, or customs, or 
people, were flat against the Word of God, are diametrically oppo- 
site to Christianity. If I have said amiss in this, convince me of my 
error, and I am ready here before you to make my recantation. 

2. As to the second, to wit, Mr. Superstition, and his charge 
against me, I said only this, That in the worship of God there is 
required a Divine faith ; but there can be no Divine faith without a 
Divine revelation of the will of God. Therefore, whatever is thrust 
into the worship of God that is not agreeable to Divine revelation, 
cannot be done but by a human faith, which faith will not be pro- 
fitable to eternal life. 

3. As to what Mr. Pickthank hath said, I say (avoiding terms, as 
that I am said to rail, and the like), that the prince of this town, 
with all the rabblement, his attendants, by this gentleman named, 
are more fit for a being in hell, than in this town and country : and 
so, the Lord have mercy upon me ! 

Then the Judge called to the jury (who all this while stood by, to 
hear and observe) : Gentlemen of the jury, you see this man about 
whom so great an uproar hath been made in this town. You have 
also heard what these worthy gentlemen have witnessed against 
him. Also you have heard his reply and confession. It lieth now 
in your breasts to hang him or save his life ; but yet I think meet 
to instruct you into our law. 

There was an Act made in the days of Pharaoh the Great, servant 
to our prince, that lest those of a contrary religion should multiply 
and grow too strong for him, their males should be thrown into the 
river.* There was also an Act made in the days of Nebuchadnezzar 
the Great, another of his servants, that whosoever would not fall 
down and worship his golden image, should be thrown into a fiery 
furnace. t There was also an Act made in the days of Darius, that 
whoso, for some time, called upon any god but him, should be cast 
into the lions' den. J Now the substance of these laws this rebel 
has broken, not only in thought (which is not to be borne), but also 
in word and deed ; which must therefore needs be intolerable. 

For that of Pharaoh, his law was made upon a supposition, to 
prevent mischief, no crime being yet apparent ; but here is a crime 

* Exod. i. t Dan. iii. 6. \ Dan. vi. 7. 



FAITHFULS MARTYRDOM. 73 

apparent. For the second and third, you see he disputeth against 
our religion ; and for the treason he hath confessed, he deserveth to 
die the death. 

Then went the jury out, whose names were, Mr. Blind-man, Mr. 
No-good, Mr. Malice, Mr. Love-lust, Mr. Live-loose, Mr. Heady, 
Mr. High-mind, Mr. Enmity, Mr. Liar, Mr. Cruelty, Mr. Hate- 
light, and Mr. Implacable ; who every one gave in his private ver- 
dict against him among themselves, and afterwards unanimously 
concluded to bring him in guilty before the Judge. And first, among 
themselves, Mr. Blind-man, the foreman said, I see clearly that this 
man is a heretic. Then said Mr. No-good, Away with such a 
fellow from the earth. Ay, said Mr. Malice, for I hate the very looks 
of him. Then said Mr. Love-lust, I could never endure him. Nor 
I, said Mr. Live-loose, for he would always be condemning my way. 
Hang him, hang him, said Mr. Heady. A sorry scrub, said Mr. 
High-mind. My heart riseth against him, said Mr. Enmity. He is 
a rogue, said Mr. Liar. Hanging is too good for him, said Mr. 
Cruelty. Let us despatch him out of the way, said Mr. Hate-light. 
Then said Mr. Implacable, Might I have all the world given me, I 
could not be reconciled to him ; therefore, let us forthwith bring 
him in guilty of death. And so they did ; therefore he was pre- 
sently condemned to be had from the place where he was, to the 
place from whence he came, and there to be put to the most cruel 
death that could be invented. 

They, therefore, brought him out, to do with him according to 
their law ; and, first, they scourged him, then they buffeted him, 
then they lanced his flesh with knives ; after that, they stoned him 
with stones, then pricked him with their swords ; and, last of all, 
they burned him to ashes at the stake. Thus came Faithful to his end. 

Now I saw that there stood behind the multitude a chariot and a 
couple of horses, waiting for Faithful, who (so soon as his adver- 
saries had despatched him) was taken up into it, and straightway 
was carried up through the clouds, with sound of trumpet, the 
nearest way to the celestial gate. 

" Brave FAITHFUL ! bravely done in word and deed ; 
Judge, witnesses, and jury have, instead 
Of overcoming' thee, but shown their rage : 
When they are dead, thou'lt live from age to age." 

But as for Christian, he had some respite, and was remanded 
back to prison. So he there remained for a space ; but He that 
overrules all things, having the power of their rage in his own hand, 
so wrought it about, that Christian for that time escaped them, and 
went his way ; and as he went, he sang, saying — 



74 HOPEFUL JOINS CHRISTIAN. 

" Well, Faithful, thou hast faithfully profest 
Unto thy Lord ; with whom thou shalt be blest, 
When faithless ones, with all their vain delights, 
Are crying out under their hellish plights : 
Sing, Faithful, sing, and let thy name survive ; 
For, though they killed thee, thou art yet alive." 

Now I saw in my dream, that Christian went not forth alone, for 
there was one whose name was Hopeful (being made so by the be- 
holding of Christian and Faithful in their words and behaviour, in 
their sufferings at the Fair), who joined himself unto him, and, entering 
into a brotherly covenant, told him that he would be his companion. 
Thus, one died to bear testimony to the truth, and another rises out 
of his ashes, to be a companion with Christian in his pilgrimage. 
This Hopeful also told Christian, that there were many more of the 
men in the Fair that would take their time and follow after. 

So I saw that quickly after they were got out of the Fair, they 
overtook one that was going before them, whose name was By- 
ends : so, they said to him, What countryman, sir? and how far go 
you this way? He told them that he came from the town of Fair- 
speech, and he was going to the Celestial City, but told them not 
his name. 

From Fair-speech ! said Christian. Is there any good that lives 
there ?* 

By-ends. Yes, said By-ends, I hope. 

Chr. Pray, sir, what may I call you, said Christian. 

By-ends. I am a stranger to you, and you to me : if you be going 
this way, I shall be glad of your company ; if not, I must be content. 

Chr. This town of Fair-speech, said Christian, I have heard of; 
and, as I remember, they say it is a wealthy place. 

By-ends. Yes, I will assure you that it is ; and I have very many 
rich kindred there. 

Chr. Pray, who are your kindred there? if a man may be so 
bold. 

By-ends. Almost the whole town ; and in particular, my Lord 
Turn-about, my Lord Time-server, my Lord Fair-speech (from 
whose ancestors that town first took its name), also Mr. Smooth- 
man, Mr. Facing-both-ways, Mr. Any-thing ; and the parson of our 
parish, Mr. Two-tongues, was my mother's own brother by father's 
side ; and to tell you the truth, I am become a gentleman of good 
quality, yet my great-grandfather was but a waterman, looking one 
way and rowing another, and I got most of my estate by the same 
occupation. 

Chr. Are you a married man ? 



BY-ENDS OF FAIR-SPEECH. 75 

By-ENDS. Yes, and my wife is a very virtuous woman, the daughter 
of a virtuous woman ; she was my Lady Feigning's daughter, there- 
fore she came of a very honourable family, and is arrived to such a 
pitch of breeding, that she knows how to carry it to all, even to 
prince and peasant. It is true we somewhat differ in religion from 
those of the stricter sort, yet but in two small points : first, we never 
strive against wind and tide ; secondly, we are always most zealous 
when religion goes in his silver slippers ; we love much to walk 
with him in the street, if the sun shines, and the people applaud 
him. 

Then Christian stepped a little aside to his fellow, Hopeful, say- 
ing, It runs in my mind that this is one By-ends of Fair-speech ; and 
if it be he, we have as very a knave in our company as dwelleth in 
all these parts. Then said Hopeful, Ask him ; methinks he should 
not be ashamed of his name. So Christian came up with him again, 
and said, Sir, you talk as if you knew something more than all the 
world doth ; and if I take not my mark amiss, I deem I have half a 
guess of you : Is not your name Mr. By-ends, of Fair-speech ? 

By-ends. This is not my name, but indeed it is a nickname that 
is given me by some that cannot abide me : and I must be content 
to bear it as a reproach, as other good men have borne theirs be- 
fore me. 

Chr. But did you never give an occasion to men to call you by 
this name ? 

By-ends. Never, never ! The worst that ever I did to give them 
an occasion to give me this name was, that I had always the luck to 
jump in my judgment with the present way of the times, whatever it 
was, and my chance was to get thereby ; but if things are thus cast 
upon me, let me count them a blessing ; but let not the malicious 
load me therefore with reproach. 

Chr. I thought, indeed, that you were the man that I heard of ; 
and to tell you what I think, I fear this name belongs to you more 
properly than you are willing we should think it doth. 

By-ends. Well, if you will thus imagine, I cannot help it ; you 
shall find me a fair company-keeper, if you will still admit me your 
associate. 

Chr. If you will go with us, you must go against wind and tide ; 
the which, I perceive, is against your opinion ; you must also own 
religion in rags, as well as when in his silver slippers ; and stand by 
him, too, when bound in irons, as well as when he walketh the 
streets with applause. 

By-ends. You must not impose, nor lord it over my faith ; leave 
me to my liberty, and let me go with you. 



76 MONE Y-L O VE AND SA VE-ALL. 

Cur. Not a step further, unless you will do in what I propound 
as we. 

Then said By-ends, I shall never desert my old principles, since 
they are harmless and profitable. If I may not go with you, I must 
do as I did before you overtook me, even go by myself, until some 
overtake me that will be glad of my company. 

Now I saw in my dream, that Christian and Hopeful forsook him, 
and kept their distance before him ; but one of them looking back, 
saw three men following Mr. By-ends, and behold, as they came 
up with him, he made them a very low congi ; and they also gave 
him a compliment. The men's names were Mr. Hold-the-world, 
Mr. Money-love, and Mr. Save -all ; men that Mr. By-ends had for- 
merly been acquainted with ; for in their minority they were school- 
fellows, and were taught by one Mr. Gripe-man, a schoolmaster in 
Lovegain, which is a market town in the county of Coveting, in the 
north. This schoolmaster taught them the art of getting, either by 
violence, cozenage, flattery, lying, or by putting on a guise of reli- 
gion ; and these four gentlemen had attained much of the art of 
their master, so that they could each of them have kept such a school 
themselves. 

Well, when they had, as I said, thus saluted each other, Mr. 
Money-love said to Mr. By-ends, Who are they upon the road before 
us? (for Christian and Hopeful were yet within view.) 

By-ends. They are a couple of far countrymen, that, after their 
mode, are going on pilgrimage. 

Money-love. Alas! Why did they not stay, that we might have 
had their good company ? for they, and we, and you, Sir, I hope, 
are all going on a pilgrimage. 

By-ends. We are so, indeed ; but the men before us are so rigid, 
and love so much their own notions, and do also so lightly esteem 
the opinions of others, that let a man be never so godly, yet, if 
he jumps not with them in all things, they thrust him quite out of 
their company. 

Save-all. That is bad, but we read of some that are righteous 
overmuch ; and such men's rigidness prevails with them to judge and 
condemn all but themselves. But, I pray, what, and how many, 
were the things wherein you differed ? 

By-ends. Why, they, after their headstrong manner, conclude 
that it is duty to rush on their journey all weathers ; and I am for 
waiting for wind and tide. They are for hazarding all for God at a 
clap ; and I am for taking all advantages to secure my life and estate. 
They are for holding their notions, though all other men are against 
them ; but 1 am for religion in what, and so far as the times, and my 



MR. HOLD-THE-WORLD. T7 

safety, will bear it. They are for Religion when in rags and con- 
tempt ; but I am for him when he walks in his f>lden slippers, in 
the sunshine, and with applause. 

Mr. Hold-the-world. Aye, and hold you there still, good Mr. 
By-ends ; for, for my part, I can count him but a fool, that, having 
the liberty to keep what he has, shall be so unwise as to lose it. Let 
us be wise as serpents ; it is best to make hay when the sun shines ; 
you see how the bee lieth still all winter, and bestirs her only when 
she can have profit with pleasure. God sends sometimes rain, and 
sometimes sunshine ; if they be such fools to go through the first, yet 
let us be content to take fair weather along with us. For my part, L 
like that religion best that will stand with the security of God's good 
blessings unto us ; for who can imagine, that is ruled by his reason, 
since God has bestowed upon us the good things of this life, but that 
he would have us keep them for his sake? Abraham and Solomon 
grew rich in religion. And Job says, that a good man shall lay up 
gold as dust. But he must not be such as the men before us, if they 
be as you have described them. 

Mr. Save-all. I think that we are all agreed in this matter, and 
therefore there needs no more words about it. 

Mr. Money-love. No, there needs no more words about this 
matter, indeed ; for he that believes neither Scripture nor reason 
(and you see we have both on our side), neither knows his own 
liberty, nor seeks his own safety. 

Mr. By-ends. My brethren, we are, as you see, going all on pil- 
grimage ; and for our better diversion from things that are bad, give 
me leave to propound unto you this question : — 

Suppose a man, a minister, or a tradesman, &c, should have an 
advantage lie before him, to get the good blessings of this life, yet so 
as that he can by no means come by them except, in appearance at 
least, he becomes extraordinarily zealous in some points of religion 
that he meddled not with before ; may he not use these means to 
attain his end, and yet be a right honest man ? 

Mr. Money-love. I see the bottom of your question ; and, with 
these gentlemen's good leave, I will endeavour to shape you an 
answer. And first, to speak to your question as it concerns a mi- 
nister himself : Suppose a minister, a worthy man, possessed but of 
a very small benefice, and has in his eye a greater, more fat, and 
plump by far ; he has also now an opportunity of getting of it, yet so 
as by being more studious, by preaching more frequently and 
zealously, and, because the temper of the people requires it, by al- 
tering of some of his principles ; for my part, I see no reason but a 



7 3 J/J?. MONEY-LOVE'S ARGUMENT. 

man may do this (provided he has a call), aye, and more a great dea 
besides, and yet bo an honest man. For why — 

i. His desire cl a greater benefice is lawful (this cannot be con- 
tradicted), since it is set before him by Providence ; so then, he may 
get it, if he can, making no question for conscience sake. 

2. Besides, his desire after that benefice makes him more studious, 
a more zealous preacher, &c, and so makes him a better man ; yea, 
makes him better improve his parts, which is according to the mind 
of God. 

3. Now, as for complying with the temper of his people by dis- 
sembling, to serve them, some of his principles, this argueth — (1) That 
he is of a self-denying temper ; (2) Of a sweet and winning deport- 
ment ; and so (3) more fit for the ministerial function. 

4. I conclude, then, that a minister that changes a small for a 
great, should not, for so doing, be judged as covetous ; but rather, 
since he has improved in his parts and industry thereby, be counted 
as one that pursues his call, and the opportunity put into his hand to 
do good. 

And now to the second part of the question, which concerns the 
tradesman you mentioned. Suppose such an one to have but a poor 
employ in the world, but by becoming religious, he may mend his 
market, perhaps get a rich wife, or more and far better customers 
to his shop ; for my part, I see no reason but that this may be law- 
fully done. For why — 

1. To become religious is a virtue, by what means soever a man 
becomes so. 

2. Nor is it unlawful to get a rich wife, or more custom to my 
shop. 

3. Besides, the man that gets these by becoming religious, gets 
that which is good, of them that are good, by becoming good him- 
self ; so then here is a good wife, and good customers, and good 
gain, and all these by becoming religious, which is good ; therefore, 
to become religious, to get all these, is a good and profitable 
design. 

This answer, thus made by this Mr. Money-love to Mr. By-ends' 
question, was highly applauded by them all ; wherefore they concluded, 
upon the whole, that it was most wholesome and advantageous. 
And because, as they thought, no man was able to contradict it, and 
because Christian and Hopeful were yet within call, they jointly 
agreed to assault them with the question as soon as they overtook 
them ; and the rather because they had opposed Mr. By-ends before. 
So they called after them, and they stopped, and stood still till they 



CHRISTIAN ANSWERS IT. 79 

came up to them ; but they concluded, as they went, that not Mr. 
By-ends, but old Mr. Hold-the-world, should propound the question 
to them, because, as they supposed, their answer to him would be 
without the remainder of that heat that was kindled betwixt Mr. By- 
ends and them, at their parting a little before. 

So they came up to each other, and after a short salutation, Mr. 
Hold-the-world propounded the question to Christian and his fellow, 
and bid them to answer it if they could. 

Chr. Then said Christian, Even a babe in religion may answer 
ten thousand such questions. For if it be unlawful to follow Christ 
for loaves (as it is in the sixth of John), how much more abominable 
is it to make of him and religion a stalking-horse, to get and enjoy 
the world ! Nor do we find any other than heathens, hypocrites, 
devils, and witches, that are of this opinion. 

i. Heathens; for when Hamor and Shechem had a mind to the 
daughter and cattle of Jacob, and saw that there was no ways for 
them to come at them, but by becoming circumcised; they say to 
their companions, if every male of us be circumcised as they are cir- 
cumcised, shall not their cattle, and their substance, and every beast 
of theirs, be ours ? Their daughter and their cattle were that which 
they sought to obtain, and their religion the stalking-horse they made 
use of to come at them. Read the whole story.* 

2. The hypocritical Pharisees were also of this religion ; long 
prayers were their pretence, but to get widows' houses was their 
intent ; and greater damnation was from God their judgment, f 

3. Judas the devil was also of this religion; he was religious for the 
bag, that he might be possessed of what was therein; but he was lost, 
cast away, and the very son of perdition. 

4. Simon the Witch was of this religion too; for he would have had 
the Holy Ghost, that he might have got money therewith; and his 
sentence from Peter's mouth was according. J 

5. Neither will it out of my mind, but that that man that takes 
up religion for the world, will throw away religion for the world ; 
for so surely as Judas resigned the world in becoming religious, so 
surely did he also sell religion and his Master for the same. To 
answer the question, therefore, affirmatively, as I perceive you have 
done, and to accept of, as authentic, such answer, is both heathenish, 
hypocritical, and devilish ; and your reward will be according to 
your works. Then they stood staring one upon another, but had not 
wherewith to answer Christian. Hopeful also approved of the 
soundness of Christian's answer ; so there was a great silence 
among them. Mr. By-ends and his company also staggered and 

* Gen. xxxiv. 20—23. t Luke xx. 46, 47. % Acts viii. 19 — 22. 



So LUCRE HILL. 

kept behind, that Christian and Hopeful might outgo them. Then 
said Christian to his fellow, If these men cannot stand before the 
sentence of men, what will they do with the sentence of God ? And 
if they are mute when dealt with by vessels of clay, what will they 
do when they shall be rebuked by the flames of a devouring fire? 

Then Christian and Hopeful outwent them again, 
pilgrims a have is an d went till they came at a delicate plain called Ease, 
but littic- in this where they went with much content ; but that plain 
was but narrow, so they were quickly got over it. 
Now at the further side of that plain was a little Hill called Lucre, 
and in that hill a silver mine, which some of them that 
Lucre Hill a dan- ] iac j formerly gone that way, because of the rarity of 

gerous i . .^ ^ at j turned aside to see; but going too near the 
brink of the pit, the ground being deceitful under them, broke, and 
they were slain; some also had been maimed there, and could not, to 
their dying day, be their own men again. 

Then 1 saw in my dream, that a little off the road, over against 
the silver mine, stood Demas (gentleman-like) to call to passengers 
to come and see; who said to Christian and his fellow, Ho ! turn 
aside hither, and I will show you a thing. 

Chr. What thing so deserving as to turn us out of the way to 
see it? 

Demas. Here is a silver mine, and some digging in it for treasure. 
If you will come, with a little pains you may richly provide for your- 
selves. 

Hope. Then said Hopeful, Let us go see. 

Chr. Not I, said Christian, I have heard of this place before now; 
and how many have there been slain; and besides that, treasure is a 
snare to those that seek it; for it hindereth them in their pilgrimage. 
Then Christian called to Demas, saving, Is not the place dangerous ? 
Hath it not hindered many in their pilgrimage?* 

Demas. Not very dangerous, except to those that are careless 
(but withal, he blushed as he spake). 

Chr. Then said Christian to Hopeful, Let us not stir a step, but 
still keep on our way. 

Hope. I will warrant you, when By-ends comes up, if he hath the 
same invitation as we, he will turn in thither to see. 

Chr. No doubt thereof, for his principles lead him that way, and 
a hundred to one but he dies there. 

Demas. Then Demas called again, saying, But will you not come 
over and see ? 

Chr. Then Christian roundly answered, saying, Demas, thou art 

* Matt. xiii. 22. 




THE PILGRIMS AT THE RIVER. P. 83. 



THE FATE OF BY-ENDS. 81 

an enemy to the right ways of the Lord of this way, and hast been 
already condemned for thine own turning aside, by one of his Ma- 
jesty's judges,* and why seekest thou to bring us into the like con- 
demnation ? Besides, if we at all turn aside, our Lord the King will 
certainly hear thereof, and will there put us to shame, where we would 
stand with boldness before him. 

Demas cried again, that he also was one of their fraternity ; and 
that if they would tarry a little, he also himself would walk with 
them. 

Chr. Then said Christian, What is thy name ? Is it not the same 
by the which I have called thee ? 

Demas. Yes, my name is Demas; I am the son of Abraham. 

Chr. I know you; Gehazi was your great-grandfather, and Judas 
your father; and you have trod in their steps. f It is but a devilish 
prank that thou usest; thy father was hanged for a traitor, and thou 
deservest no better reward. Assure thyself, that when we come to 
the King, we will do him word of this thy behaviour. Thus they 
went their way. 

By this time By-ends and his companions were come again within 
sight, and they, at the first beck, wentoverto Demas. Now, whether 
they fell into the pit by looking over the brink thereof, or whether 
they went down to dig, or whether they were smothered in the 
bottom by the damps that commonly arise, of these things I am not 
certain; but this I observed, that they never were seen again in the 
way. Then sang Christian — 

*' By-ends and silver Demas both agree ; 
One calls, the other runs, that he may be 
A sharer in his lucre ; so these do 
Take up in this world, and no further go." 

Now I saw that, just on the other side of this plain, the Pilgrims 
came to a place where stood an old monument, hard by the highway 
side, at the sight of which they were both concerned, because of the 
strangeness of the form thereof; for it seemed to them as if it had 
been a woman transformed into the shape of a pillar; here therefore 
they stood, looking and looking upon it, but could not for a time 
tell what they should make thereof. At last Hopeful espied written 
above the head thereof, a writing in an unusual hand ; but he being 
no scholar, called to Christian (for he was learned) to see if he could 
pick out the meaning; so he came, and after a little laying of letters 
together, he found the same to be this, "Remember Lot's wife.** 
So he read it to his fellow; after which they both concluded that that 
was the pillar of salt into which Lot's wife was turned, for her look- 

* 2 Tim. iv. io. t 2 Kings v. 20 Matt. xxvi. 14, 15 ; xxvii. 1—5. 

G 



82 LOTS WIFE. 

ing back with a covetous heart, when she was going from Sodom for 
safety.* Which sudden and amazing sight gave them occasion of 
this discourse. 

Chr. Ah, my brother ! this is a seasonable sight; it came oppor- 
tunely to us after the invitation which Demas gave us to come over 
to view Hill Lucre; and had we gone over, as he desired us, and as 
thou wast inclining to do, my brother, we had, for aught I know, 
been made ourselves like this woman, a spectacle for those that shall 
come after to behold. 

Hope. I am sorry that I was so foolish, and am made to wonder 
that I am not now as Lot's wife; for wherein was the difference be- 
twixt her sin and mine? She only looked back; and I had a desire 
to go see. Let grace be adored, and let me be ashamed that ever 
such a thing should be in mine heart. 

Chr. Let us take notice of what we see here, for our help for 
time to come. This woman escaped one judgment, for she fell not 
by the destruction of Sodom ; yet she was destroyed by another, as 
we see she is turned into a pillar of salt. 

Hope. True; and she may be to us both caution and example; 
caution, that we should shun her sin; or a sign of what judgment 
will overtake such as shall not be prevented by this caution; so Korah, 
Dathan, and Abiram, with the two hundred and fifty men that pe- 
rished in their sin, did also become a sign or example to others to 
beware. t But above all, I muse at one thing, to wit, how Demas 
and his fellows can stand so confidently yonder to look for that trea- 
sure, which this woman, but for looking behind her after (for we read 
not that she stepped one foot out of the way) was turned into a pillar 
of salt ; especially since the judgment which overtook her did make 
her an example, within sight of where they are; for they cannot choose 
but see her, did they but lift up their eyes. 

Chr. It is a thing to be wondered at, and it argueth that their 
hearts are grown desperate in the case ; and I cannot tell who to 
compare them to so fitly, as to them that pick pockets in the presence 
of the judge, or that will cut purses under the gallows. It is said of 
the men of Sodom, that they were sinners exceedingly, because they 
were sinners before the Lord, that is, in his eyesight, and notwith- 
standing the kindnesses that he had showed them, % for the land of 
Sodom was now like the garden of Eden heretofore. § This, there- 
fore, provoked him the more to jealousy, and made their plague as 
hot as the fire of the Lord out of heaven could make it. And it is 
most rationally to be concluded, that such, even such as these are, 
that shall sin in the sight, yea, and that too in despite of such ex- 

* Gen, xix. 26. t Num. xxvi. q, 10. X Gen. xiii. 13. § Gen. xiii. 10. 



THE RIVER OF LIFE. 83 

ampies that are set continually before them, to caution them to the 
contrary, must be partakers of severest judgments. 

Hope. Doubtless thou hast said the truth ; but what a mercy is it, 
that neither thou, but especially I, am not made myself this ex- 
ample ! This ministereth occasion to us to thank God, to fear 
before him, and always to remember Lot's wife. 

I saw, then, that they went on their way to a pleasant river ; which 
David the king called ' ' the river of God, " but John, ' ' the river of the 
water of life."* Now their way lay just upon the bank of the river ; 
here, therefore, Christian and his companion walked with great 
delight ; they drank also of the water of the river, which was plea- 
sant, and enlivening to their weary spirits : besides, on the banks of 
this river, on either side, were green trees, that bore all manner of 
fruit ; and the leaves of the trees were good for medicine ; with the 
fruit of these trees they were also much delighted ; and the leaves 
they eat to prevent surfeits, and other diseases that are incident to 
those that heat their blood by travels. On either side of the river 
was also a meadow, curiously beautified with lilies, and it was green 
all the year long. In this meadow they lay down, and slept ; for 
here they might lie down safely. When they awoke, they gathered 
again of the fruit of the trees, and drank again of the water of the 
river, and then lay down again to sleep. t Thus they did several 
days and nights. Then they sang — 

" Behold ye how these crystal streams do glide, 
To comfort pilgrims by the highway side ; 
The meadows green, beside their fragrant smell, 
Yield dainties for them : and he that can tell 
What pleasant fruit, yea, leaves, these trees do yield, 
Will soon sell all, that he may buy this field." 

So when they were disposed to go on (for they were not as yet at 
their journey's end), they ate and drank, and departed. 

Now, I beheld in my dream, that they had not journeyed far, but 
the river and the way for a time parted ; at which they were not a 
little sorry ; yet they durst not go out of the way. Now the way 
from the river was rough, and their feet tender, by reason of their 
travels; "so the souls of the pilgrims were much discouraged be- 
cause of the way. "t Wherefore, still as they went on, they wished 
for better way. Now, a little before them, there was on the left 
hand of the road a meadow, and a stile to go over into it ; and that 
meadow is called By-path Meadow. Then said Christian to his 
fellow, If this meadow lieth along by our wayside, 
let us go over into it. Then he went to the stile to does e make a -way 
see, and behold, a path lay along by the way, on the for another. 

* Psa. lxv. 9 ; Rev. xxii. i ; Ezek. xlvii. i. t Psa. xxiii. 2 ; Isa. xiv. 30. 

X Num. xxi. 4. 

a 2 



84 THEY TURN ASIDE. 

other side of the fence. It is according to my wish, said Christian. 
Here is the easiest going ; come, good Hopeful, and let us go over. 

Hope. But how if this path should lead us out of the way? 

Chr. That is not like, said the other. Look, doth it not go along 
by the wayside? So Hopeful, being persuaded by 

Strong Chris- his fellow, went after him over the stile. When they 
tians may lead were gone over, and were got into the path, they 

weak ones out of r _, .. r ., . ? . , - 1 , , ' , J 

the way. found it very easy for their feet ; and withal, they, 

looking before them, espied a man walking as they 
did (and his name was Vain-confidence) ; so they called after him, 
and asked him whither that way- led. He said, To the Celestial 
Gate. Look, said Christian, did not I tell you so? By this you 
may see we are right. So they followed, and he went before them. 
But, behold, the night came on, and it grew very dark ; so that they 
that were behind lost the sight of him that went before. 

He, therefore, that went before (Vain-confidence by name), not 
seeing the way before him, fell into a deep pit,* which was on pur- 
pose there made, by the Prince of those grounds, to catch vain- 
glorious fools withal, and was dashed in pieces with his fall. 

Now Christian and his fellow heard him fall. So they called to 
know the matter, but there was none to answer, only they heard a 
groaning. Then said Hopeful, Where are we now? Then was his 
fellow silent, as mistrusting that he had led him out of the way ; and 
now it began to rain, and thunder, and lighten in a very dreadful 
manner ; and the water rose amain. 

Then Hopeful groaned in himself, saving, Oh, that I had kept on 
my way. 

Chr. Who could have thought that this path should have led us 
out of the way? 

Hoi'E. I was afraid on it at the very first, and therefore gave you 
that gentle caution. I would have spoken plainer, but that you are 
older than I. 

Chr. Good brother, be not offended ; I am sorry I have brought 
thee out of the way, and that I have put thee into such imminent 
danger ; pray, my brother, forgive me ; I did not do it of an evil 
intent. 

Hope. Be comforted, my brother, for I forgive thee ; and believe, 
too, that this shall be for our good. 

Chr. I am glad I have with me a merciful brother ; but we must 
not stand thus : let us try to go back again. 

Hope. But, good brother, let me go before. 

Chr. No, if you please, let me go first, that if there be any danger 



GIANT DESPAIR. 85 

I may be first therein, because by my means we are both gone out 
of the way. 

Hope. No, said Hopeful, you shall not go first ; for your mind 
being troubled may lead you out of the way again. Then, for their 
encouragement, they heard the voice of one saying, ' ' Set thine heart 
toward the highway, even the way which thou wentest ; turn again."* 
But by this time the waters were greatly risen, by reason of which 
the way of going back was very dangerous. (Then I thought that 
it is easier going out of the way, when we are in, than going in when 
we are out.) Yet they adventured to go back, but it was so dark, 
and the flood was so high, that in their going back they had like to 
have been drowned nine or ten times. 

Neither could they, with all the skill they had, get again to the 
stile that night. Wherefore, at last, lighting under a little shelter, 
they sat down there until the day-break ; but, being weary, they fell 
asleep. Now there was not far from the place where they lay, a 
castle called Doubting Castle, the owner whereof was Giant Despair ; 
and it was in his grounds they now were sleeping : wherefore he, 
getting up in the morning early, and walking up and down in his 
fields, caught Christian and Hopeful asleep in his grounds. Then, 
with a grim and surly voice, he bid them awake ; and asked them 
whence they were, and what they did in his grounds. They told 
him they were pilgrims, and that they had lost their way. Then said 
the Giant, You have this night trespassed on me, by trampling in, 
and lying on my grounds, and therefore you must go along with me. 
So they were forced to go, because he was stronger than they. They 
also had but little to say, for they knew themselves in a fault. The 
Giant, therefore, drove them before him, and put them into his 
castle, into a very dark dungeon, nasty and stinking to the spirits of 
these two men.t Here, then, they lay from Wednesday morning 
till Saturday night, without one bit of bread, or drop of drink, or 
light, or any to ask how they did ; they were, therefore, here in evil 
case, and were far from friends and acquaintance. Now in this place 
Christian had double sorrow, because it was through his unadvised 
counsel that they were brought into this distress. 

" The Pilgrims now, to gratify the flesh, 
Will seek its ease ; but oh ! how they afresh 
Do thereby plunge themselves new griefs into 
Who seek to please the flesh, themselves undo." 

Now, Giant Despair had a wife, and her name was Diffidence. 
So when he was gone to bed he told his wife what he had done ; to 
wit, that he had taken a couple of prisoners and cast them into his 

* Jer. xxxi. ax. t Psa. lxxxviii. 18. 



S6 THE GIANTS ADVICE. 

dungeon, for trespassing on his grounds. Then he asked her also 
what he had best to do further to them. So she asked him what 
they were, whence they came, and whither they were bound ; and 
he told her. Then she counselled him that when he arose in the 
morning he should beat them without any mercy. So, when he 
arose, he getteth him a grievous crab-tree cudgel, and goes down 
into the dungeon to them, and there first falls to rating of them a 
if they were dogs, although they never gave him a word of distaste. 
Then he falls upon them, and beats them fearfully, in such sort, that 
they were not able to help themselves, or to turn them upon the floor. 
This done, he withdraws and leaves them, there to condole their 
misery, and to mourn under their distress. So all that day they 
spent the time in nothing but sighs and bitter lamentations. The 
next night, she, talking with her husband about them further, and 
understanding they were yet alive, did advise him to counsel them to 
make away with themselves. So when morning was come, he goes to 
them in a surly manner as before, and perceiving them to be very 
sore with the stripes that he had given them the day before, he told 
them, that since they were never like to come out of that place, their 
only way would be forthwith to make an end of themselves, either 
with knife, halter, or poison ; for why, said he, should you choose 
life, seeing it is attended with so much bitterness ? But they desired 
him to let them go. With that he looked ugly upon them, and, 
rushing to them, had doubtless made an end of them himself, but 
that he fell into one of his fits (for he sometimes, in sunshiny weather, 
fell into fits), and lost for a time the use of his hand ; wherefore he 
withdrew, and left them as before to consider what to do. Then 
did the prisoners consult between themselves, whether it was best to 
take his counsel or no; and thus they began to discourse : — 

Chr. Brother, said Christian, what shall we do? The life that 
we now live is miserable. For my part I know not whether is best, 
to live thus, or to die out of hand. " My soul chooseth strangling 
rather than life," and the grave is more easy for me than this dun- 
geon.* Shall we be ruled by the Giant ? 

Hope. Indeed, our present condition is dreadful, and death would 
be far more welcome to me than thus for ever to abide ; but yet, let 
us consider, the Lord of the country to which wc are going hath said, 
Thou shalt do no murder : no, not to another man's person ; much 
more, then, are we forbidden to take his counsel to kill ourselves. 
Besides, he that kills another, can but commit murder upon his 
body; but for one to kill himself is to kill body and soul at once. 
And, moreover, my brother, thou talkest of ease in the grave ; but 

* Job vii. 15. 



HOPEFUL RESISTS IT. 87 

hast thou forgotten the hell, whither for certain the murderers go? 
For ' ■ no murderer hath eternal life," &c. And let us consider, again, 
that all the law is not in the hand of Giant Despair. Others, so far 
as I can understand, have been taken by him, as well as we ; and 
yet have escaped out of his hand. Who knows, but that God that 
made the world may cause that Giant Despair may die ? or that, at 
some time or other, he may forget to lock us in? or that he may, in 
a short time, have another of his fits before us, and may lose the use 
of his limbs ? and if ever that should come to pass again, for my part, 
I am resolved to pluck up the heart of a man, and to try my utmost 
to get from under his hand. I was a fool that I did not try to do it 
before ; but, however, my brother, let us be patient, and endure a 
while. The time may come that may give us a happy release ; but 
let us not be our own murderers. With these words, Hopeful at 
present did moderate the mind of his brother ; so they continued to- 
gether (in the dark) that day, in their sad and doleful condition. 

Well, towards evening, the Giant goes down into the dungeon 
again, to see if his prisoners had taken his counsel ; but when he 
came there he found them alive ; and truly, alive was all ; for now, 
what for want of bread and water, and by reason of the wounds they 
received when he beat them, they could do little but breathe. But, 
I say, he found them alive ; at which he fell into a grievous rage, 
and told them that, seeing they had disobeyed his counsel, it should 
be worse with them than if they had never been born. 

At this they trembled greatly, and I think that Christian fell into 
a swoon ; but, coming a little to himself again, they renewed their 
discourse about the Giant's counsel ; and whether yet they had best 
to take it or no. Now Christian again seemed to be for doing it, 
but Hopeful made his second reply as followeth : — 

Hope. My brother, said he, rememberest thou not how valiant 
thou hast been heretofore? Apollyon could not crush thee, nor 
could all that thou didst hear, or see, or feel, in the Valley of the 
Shadow of Death. What hardship, terror, and amazement hast thou 
already gone through ! And art thou now nothing but fear ! Thou 
seest that I am in the dungeon with thee, a far weaker man by nature 
than thou art ; also, this Giant has wounded me as well as thee, and 
hath also cut off the bread and water from my mouth ; and with thee 
I mourn without the light. But let us exercise a little more patience; 
remember how thou playedst the man at Vanity Fair, and wast neither 
afraid of the chain, nor cage, nor yet of bloody death. Wherefore 
let us (at least to avoid the shame, that becomes not a Christian to 
be found in) bear up with patience as well as we can. 

Now, night being come again, and the Giant and his wife being 



83 THE KEY CALLED PROMISE. 

in bed, she asked him concerning the prisoners, and if they had taken 
his counsel. To which he replied, They are sturdy rogues, they 
choose rather to bear all hardship, than to make away with themselves. 
Then said she, Take them into the castle-yard to-morrow, and show 
them the bones and skulls of those that thou hast already despatched, 
and make them believe, ere a week comes to an end, thou also wilt 
tear them in pieces, as thou hast done their fellows before them. 

So when the morning was come, the Giant goes to them again, 
and takes them into the castle-yard, and shows them, as his wife had 
bidden him. These, said he, were pilgrims as you are, once, and 
they trespassed in my grounds, as you have done ; and when I thought 
fit, I tore them in pieces, and so, within ten days, I will do you. 
Go, get you down to your den again ; and with that he beat them 
all the way thither. They lay, therefore, all day on Saturday in a 
lamentable case, as before. Now, when night was come, and when 
Mrs. Diffidence and her husband, the Giant, were got to bed, they 
began to renew their discourse of their prisoners ; and withal the old 
Giant wondered, that he could neither by his blows nor his counsel 
bring them to an end. And with that his wife replied, I fear, said 
she, that they live in hope that some will come to relieve them, or 
that they have picklocks about them, by the means of which they 
hope to escape. And sayest thou so, my dear? said the Giant ; I 
will, therefore, search them in the morning. 

Well, on Saturday, about midnight, they began to pray, and con- 
tinued in prayer till almost break of day. 

Now, a little before it was day, good Christian, as one half amazed, 
brake out in this passionate speech : What a fool, quoth he, am I, 
thus to lie in a stinking dungeon, when I may as well walk at liberty ! 
I have a key in my bosom, called Promise, that will, I am persuaded, 
open any lock in Doubting Castle. Then said Hopeful, That is good 
news, good brother ; pluck it out of thy bosom, and try. 

Then Christian pulled it out of his bosom, and began to try at the 
dungeon door, whose bolt (as he turned the key) gave back, and the 
door flew open with ease, and Christian and Hopeful both came out. 
Then he went to the outward door that leads into the castle-yard, 
and, with his key, opened that door also. After, he went to the iron 
gate, for that must be opened too; but that lock went damnable hard, 
yet the key did open it. Then they thrust open the gate to make 
their escape with speed, but that gate, as it opened, made such a 
creaking, that it waked Giant Despair, who, hastily rising to pursue 
his prisoners, felt his limbs to fail, for his fits took him again, so that 
he could by no means go after them. Then they went on, and came 




THE PILGRIMS FOUND BY GIANT DESPAIR. P. O*. 




THE SHEPHERDS ON THE DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS. P. 89. 



IMMANUELS LAND. 89 

to the King's highway, and so were safe, because they were out of 
his jurisdiction. 

Now, when they were gone over the stile, they began to contrive 
with themselves what they should do at that stile, to prevent those 
that should come after, from falling into the hands of Giant Despair. 
So they consented to erect there a pillar, and to engrave upon the 
side thereof this sentence — "Over this stile is the way to Doubting 
Castle, which is kept by Giant Despair, who despiseth the King of 
the Celestial Country, and seeks to destroy his holy pilgrims." Many, 
therefore, that followed after, read what was written, and escaped 
the danger. This done, they sang as follow : — 

" Out of the way we went, and then we found 
What 'twas to tread upon forbidden ground ; 
And let them that come after have a care, 
Lest heedlessness makes them, as we, to fare. 
Lest they for trespassing - his prisoners are, 
Whose Castle's Doubting, and whose name's Despair." 

They went then till they came to the Delectable Mountains, which 
mountains belong to the Lord of that hill of which we have spoken 
before ; so they went up to the mountains, to behold the gardens and 
orchards; the vineyards and fountains of water; where also they 
drank and washed themselves, and did freely eat of the vineyards. 
Now there were on the tops of these mountains shepherds feeding 
their flocks, and they stood by the highway side. The Pilgrims 
therefore went to them, and leaning upon their staves (as is common 
with weary pilgrims, when they stand to talk with any by the way), 
they asked, Whose Delectable Mountains are these? And whose be 
the sheep that feed upon them? 

" Mountains delectable they now ascend, 
Where Shepherds be, which to them do commend 
Alluring things, and things that cautious are, 
Pilgrims are steady kept by Faith and Fear." 

Shep. These mountains are Immanuel's Land, and they are within 
sight of his city; and the sheep also are his, and he laid down his life 
for them.* 

Chr. Is this the way to the Celestial City? 

Shep. You are just in your way. 

Chr. How far is it thither? 

Shep. Too far for any but those that shall get thither indeed. 

Chr. Is the way safe or dangerous ? 

Shep. Safe for those for whom it is to be safe; "but the trans- 
gressors shall fall therein."! 

* John x. 11. t Hos. xiv. 9. 



9 o THE SHEPHERDS WELCOME THEM. 

Chr. Is there, in this place, any relief for pilgrims that are weary 
and faint in the way? 

Shep. The Lord of these mountains hath given us a charge not 
to be " forgetful to entertain strangers,"* therefore the good of the 
place is before you. 

I saw also in my dream, that when the Shepherds perceived that 
they were wayfaring men, they also put questions to them, to which 
they made answer as in other places; as, Whence came you? and, 
How got you into the way? and, By what means have you so per- 
severed therein? For but few of them that begin to come hither, do 
show their face on these mountains. But when the Shepherds 
heard their answers, being pleased therewith, they looked very 
lovingly upon them, and said, Welcome to the Delectable Moun- 
tains. 

The Shepherds, I say, whose names were Knowledge, Experience, 
Watchful, and Sincere, took them by the hand, and had them to 
their tents, and made them partake of that which was ready at pre- 
sent. They said, moreover, We would that ye should stay here 
awhile, to be acquainted with us ; and yet more to solace yourselves 
with the good of these Delectable Mountains. They then told them, 
that they were content to stay; so they went to their rest that night, 
because it was very late. 

Then I saw in my dream, that in the morning the Shepherds called 
up Christian and Hopeful to walk with them upon the mountains; so 
they went forth with them, and walked awhile, having a pleasant 
prospect on every side. Then said the Shepherds one to another, 
Shall we show these pilgrims some wonders ? So when they had 
concluded to do it, they had them first to the top of a hill called 
Error, which was very steep on the furthest side, and bid them look 
down to the bottom. So Christian and Hopeful looked down, and 
saw at the bottom several men dashed all to pieces by a fall that they 
had from the top. Then said Christian, What meaneth this? The 
Shepherds answered, Have you not heard of them that were made 
to err, by hearkening to Hymeneus and Philetus, as concerning the 
faith of the resurrection of the body ?t They answered, Yes. Then 
said the Shepherds, Those that you see lie dashed in pieces at the 
bottom of this mountain are they; and they have continued to this 
day unburied, as you see, for an example to others to take heed how 
they clamber too high, or how they come too near the brink of this 
mountain. 

Then I saw that they had them to the top of another mountain, 
and the name of that is Caution, and bid them look afar off; which, 

* Heb. xiii. 2. t 2 Tim. ii. 17, 18. 



MOUNT CAUTION. 91 

when thev did, they perceived, as they thought, several men walking 
up and down among the tombs that were there ; and they perceived 
that the men were blind, because they stumbled sometimes upon the 
tombs, and because they could not get out from among them. Then 
said Christian, What means this ? 

The Shepherds then answered, Did you not see a little below these 
mountains a stile, that led into a meadow, on the left hand of this 
way? They answered, Yes. Then said the Shepherds, From that 
stile there goes a path that leads directly to Doubting Castle, which 
is kept by Giant Despair, and these, pointing to them among the 
tombs, came once on pilgrimage, as you do now, even till they came 
to that same stile; and because the right way was rough in that place, 
they chose to go out of it into that meadow, and there were taken by 
Giant Despair, and cast into Doubting Castle; where, after they had 
been a while kept in the dungeon, he at last did put out their eyes, 
and led them among those tombs, where he has left them to wander 
to this very day, that the saying of the wise man might be fulfilled, 
■' He that wandereth out of the way of understanding, shall remain 
in the congregation of the dead."* Then Christian and Hopeful 
looked upon one another, with tears gushing out, but yet said nothing 
to the Shepherds. 

Then I saw in my dream, that the Shepherds had them to another 
place, in a bottom, where was a door in the side of a hill, and they 
opened the door, and bid them look in. They looked in, therefore, 
and saw that within it was very dark and smoky; they also thought 
that they heard there a rumbling noise as of fire, and a cry of some 
tormented, and that they smelt the scent of brimstone. Then said 
Christian, What means this ? The Shepherds told them, This is a 
by-way to hell, a way that hypocrites go in av ; namely, such as sell 
their birthright, with Esau; such as sell their master, with Judas; 
such as blaspheme the gospel, with Alexander; and that lie and dis- 
semble, with Ananias and Sapphira his wife. Then said Hopeful to 
the Shepherds, I perceive that these had on them, even every one, a 
show of pilgrimage, as we have now; had they net? 

Shep. Yes, and held it a long time, too. 

Hope. How far might they go on in pilgrimage in their day, since 
they notwithstanding were thus miserably cast away ? 

Shep. Some further, and some not so far, as these mountains. 

Then said the Pilgrims one to another, We have need to cry to the 
Strong for strength. 

Shep. Ay, and you will have need to use it, when you have it, 
too. 

* Prov. xxi. 16. 



92 THE Y MEE T IGNORANCE. 

By this time the Pilgrims had a desire to go forward, and the Shep- 
herds a desire they should; so they walked together towards the end 
of the mountains. Then said the Shepherds one to another, Let us 
here show to the Pilgrims the gates of the Celestial City, if they have 
skill to look through our perspective glass. The Pilgrims then 
lovingly accepted the motion; so they had them to the top of a high 
hill, called Clear, and gave them their glass to look. 

Then they essayed to look, but the remembrance of that last thing 
that the Shepherds had shown them, made their hands shake ; by 

means of which impediment, they could not look 
The vUe fear!" ***' steadily through the glass ; yet they thought they saw 

something like the gate, and also some of the glory 
of the place. Then they went away, and sang this song — 

" Thus, by the Shepherds, secrets are reveal'd, 
Which from all other men are kept conceal'd. 
Come to the Shepherds, then, if you would see 
Things deep, things hid, and that mysterious be." 

When they were about to depart, one of the Shepherds gave them 
a note of the way. Another of them bid them beware of the Flat- 
terer. The third bid them take heed that they slept not upon the 
Enchanted Ground. And the fourth bid them God-speed. So I 
awoke from my dream. 

And I slept, and dreamed again, and saw the same two Pilgrims 
going down the mountains along the highway towards the city. 
Now, a little below these mountains, on the left hand, lieth the 
country of Conceit ; from which country there comes into the way in 
which the Pilgrims walked, a little crooked lane. Here, therefore, 
they met with a very brisk lad, that came out of that country ; and 
his name was Ignorance. So Christian asked him from what parts 
he came, and whither he was going. 

IGNOR. Sir, I was born m the country that lieth off there a little 
on the left hand, and I am going to the Celestial City. 

Chr. But how do you think to get in at the gate? for you may 
find some difficulty there. 

Ignor. As other good people do, said he. 

Chr. But what have you to show at that gate, that may cause that 
the gate should be opened to you ? 

Ignor. I know my Lord's will, and I have been a good liver ; I 
pay every man his own ; I pray, fast, pay tithes, and give alms, and 
have left my country for whither I am going. 

Chr. But thou earnest not in at the wicket-gate that is at the head 
of this way ; thou earnest in hither through that same crooked lane, 
and therefore, I fear, however thou mayest think of thyself, when 



THE FA TE OF TURN-A WA Y. 93 

the reckoning day shall come, thou wilt have laid to thy charge that 
thou art a thief and a robber, instead of getting admittance into the 
city. 

Ignor. Gentlemen, ye be utter strangers to me, I know you not ; 
be content to follow the religion of your country, and I will follow 
the religion of mine. I hope all will be well. And as for the gate 
that you talk of, all the world knows that that is a great way off of 
our country. I cannot think that any man in all our parts doth so 
much as know the way to it, nor need they matter whether they do 
or no, since we have, as you see, a fine, pleasant green lane, that 
comes down from our country, the next way into the way. 

When Christian saw that the man was " wise in his own conceit," 
he said to Hopeful, whisperingly, "There is more hope of a fool 
than of him. "* And said, moreover, " When he that is a fool walketh 
by the way, his wisdom faileth him, and he saith to every one that he 
is a fool."t What, shall we talk further with him, or out-go him at 
present, and so leave him to think of what he hath heard already, 
and then stop again for him afterwards, and see if by degrees we 
can do any good to him ? Then said Hopeful — 

" Let Ignorance a little while now muse 
On what is said, and let him not refuse 
Good counsel to embrace, lest he remain 
Still ignorant of what's the chiefest gain. 
God saith, those that no understanding have, 
Although he made them, them he will not save." 

Hope. He further added, It is not good, I think, to say all to him 
at once ; let us pass him by, if you will, and talk to him anon, even 
as he is able to bear it. 

So they both went on, and Ignorance he came after. Now when 
they had passed him a little way, they entered into a very dark lane, 
where they met a man whom seven devils had bound with seven 
strong cords, and were carrying of him back to the door that they 
saw on the side of the hill. J Now good Christian began to tremble, 
and so did Hopeful his companion ; yet as the devils led away the 
man, Christian looked to see if he knew him ; and he thought it 
might be one Turn-away, that dwelt in the town of 
Apostasy. But he did not perfectly see his face, for ^ ^ItSS^ 
he did hang his head like a thief that is found. 
But being once past, Hopeful looked after him, and espied on 
his back a paper with this inscription, "Wanton professor and 
damnable apostate." Then said Christian to his fellow, Now I 
call to remembrance, that which was told me of a thing that hap' 

* Prov. xxvi. 12. t Eccles. x. 3. J Matt. xii. 45 ; Prov. v. 22. 



94 STOR Y OF LITTLE-FAITH. 

pened to a good man hereabout. The name of the man was Little- 
faith, but a good man, and he dwelt in the town of Sincere. The thing 
was this : At the entering in at this passage, there comes down from 
Broad-way Gate, a lane called Dead Man's Lane ; so called because 
of the murders that are commonly done there ; and this Little-faith 
going on pilgrimage, as we do now, chanced to sit down there, and 
slept. Now there happened, at that time, to come down the lane, 
from Broad-way Gate, three sturdy rogues, and their names were 
Faint-heart, Mistrust, and Guilt (three brothers), and they espying 
Little-faith, where he was, came galloping up with speed. Now the 
good man was just awake from his sleep, and was getting up to go 
on his journey. So they came up all to him, and with threatening 
language bid him stand. At this Little-faith looked as white as a 
clout, and had neither power to fight or fly. Then said Faint-heart, 
Deliver thy purse. But he making no haste to do it (for he was loth 
to lose his money), Mistrust ran up to him, and thrusting his hand 
into his pocket, pulled out thence a bag of silver. Then he cried 
out, Thieves ! Thieves ! With that Guilt, with a great club that was 
in his hand, struck Little-faith on the head, and with that blow felled 
him flat to the ground, where he lay bleeding as one that would bleed 
to death. All this while the thieves stood by. But, at last, they 
hearing that some were upon the road, and fearing lest it should be 
one Great-grace, that dwells in the city of Good-confidence, they 
betook themselves to their heels, and left this good man to shift for 
himself. Now, after a while, Little-faith came to himself, and get- 
ting up made shift to scrabble on his way. This was the story. 

Hope. But did they take from him all that ever he had ? 

Chr. No ; the place where his jewels were they never ransacked, 
so those he kept still. But, as I was told, the good man was much 
afflicted for his loss, for the thieves got most of his spending-money. 
That which they got not (as I said) were jewels, also he had a little 
odd money left, but scarce enough to bring him to his journey's end ;* 
nay, if I was not misinformed, he was forced to beg as he went, to 
keep himself alive ; for his jewels he might not sell. But beg, and 
do what he could, he went (as we say) with many a hungry belly the 
most part of the rest of the way. 

Hope. But is it not a wonder they got not from him his certifi- 
cate, by which he was to receive his admittance at the Celestial 
Gate? 

Ciir. It is a wonder; but they got not that, though they "missed 
it not through any good cunning of his ; for he, being dismayed with 
their coming upon him, had neither power nor skill to hide anything; 

* i Pet. ir. 18. 



LITTLE-FAITH'S REGRETS. 95, 

so it was more by good Providence than by his endeavour, that they 
missed of that good thing. 

Hope. But it must needs be a comfort to him that they got not 
his jewels from him. 

Chr. It might have been great comfort to him, had he used it as 
he should ; but they that told me the story said, that he made but 
little use of it all the rest of the way, and that because of the dismay 
that he had in the taking away his money ; indeed, he forgot it a 
great part of the rest of his journey ; and besides, when at any time 
it came into his mind, and he began to be comforted therewith, then 
would fresh thoughts of his loss come again upon him ; and those 
thoughts would swallow up all.* 

Hope. Alas, poor man 1 This could not but be a great grief to 
him. 

Chr. Grief ! ay, a grief indeed. Would it not have been so to 
any of us, had we been used as he, to be robbed, and wounded too, 
and that in a strange place, as he was ? It is a wonder he did not 
die with grief, poor heart ! I was told that he scattered almost all 
the rest of the way with nothing but doleful and bitter complaints ; 
telling also to all that overtook him, or that he overtook in the way 
as he went, where he was robbed, and how ; who they were that did 
it, and what he lost ; how he was wounded, and that he hardly escaped 
with his life. 

Hope. But it is a wonder that his necessity did not put him upon 
selling or pawning some of his jewels, that he might have wherewith 
to relieve himself in his journey. 

Chr. Thou talkest like one upon whose head is the shell to this 
very day ; for what should he pawn them, or to whom should he sell 
them? In all that country where he was robbed, his jewels were not 
accounted of; nor did he want that relief which could from thence 
be administered to him. Besides, had his jewels been missing at the 
gate of the Celestial City, he had (and that he knew well enough) 
been excluded from an inheritance there ; and that would have been 
worse to him than the appearance and villany of ten thousand 
thieves. 

Hope. Why art thou so tart, my brother? Esau sold his birth- 
right, and that for a mess of pottage,! and that birthright was his 
greatest jewel ; and if he, why might not Little-faith do so too ? 

Chr. Esau did sell his birthright indeed, and so do many besides, 
and by so doing exclude themselves from the chief blessing, as also 
that caitiff did ; but you must put a difference betwixt Esau and 
Little-faith, and also betwixt their estates. Esau's birthright was. 

* 2 Pet. i. 9. t Heb. xii. 16. 



96 HOPEFULS QUESTIONS. 

typical, but Little-faith's jewels were not so; Esau's belly was his 
god, but Little-faith's belly was not so ; Esau's want lay in his 
fleshly appetite, Little-faith's did not so. Besides, Esau could see 
no further than to the fulfilling of his lusts ; " Behold I am at the 
point to die (said he), and what profit shall this birthright do me?"* 
But Little-faith, though it was his lot to have but a little faith, was 
by his little faith kept from such extravagances, and made to see and 
prize his jewels more than to sell them, as Esau did his birthright. 
You read not anywhere that Esau had faith, no, not so much as a 
little ; therefore no marvel if, where the flesh only bears sway (as it 
will in that man where no faith is to resist), if he sells his birthright, 
and his soul and all, and that to the devil of hell ; for it is with such, 
as it is with the ass, who in her occasions cannot be turned away.f 
When their minds are set upon their lusts, they will have them what- 
ever they cost. But Little-faith was of another temper, his mind 
was on things divine ; his livelihood was upon things that were spi- 
ritual, and from above ; therefore, to what end should he that is of 
such a temper sell his jewels (had there been any that would have 
bought them) to fill his mind with empty things? Will a man give 
a penny to fill his belly with hay ; or can you per- 
^veen B Se S tS-tiI- suade the turtle-dove to live upon carrion' like the 
dove and the crow ? Though faithless ones can, for carnal lusts, 
crow * pawn, or mortgage, or sell what they have, and them- 

selves outright to boot ; yet they that have faith, saving faith, though 
but a little of it, cannot do so. Here, therefore, my brother, is thy 
mistake. 

Hope. I acknowledge it ; but yet your severe reflection had almost 
made me angry. 

Chr. Why, I did but compare thee to some of the birds that are 
of the brisker sort, who will run to and fro in untrodden paths, with 
the shell upon their heads; but pass by that, and consider the matter 
under debate, and all shall be well betwixt thee and me. 

Hope. But, Christian, these three fellows, I am persuaded in my 
heart, are but a company of cowards; would they have run else, 
think you, as they did, at the noise of one that was coming on the 
road?' Why did not Little-faith pluck up a greater heart? He 
might, methinks, have stood one brush with them, and have yielded 
when there had been no remedy. 

Chr. That they are cowards, many have said, but 
co A urnJe aVe when few have found it so in the time of' trial. As for a 
out, than when in great heart, Little-faith had none ; and I perceive by 
me conflict. theC| m y k rot i ier) hadst thou been the man con- 

* Gen. xxv ^2. t Jer. ii. 24. 




LITTLE-FAITH ROBBED. — P. 94. 



THE KINGS CHAMPION. 97 

cerned, thou art but for a brush, and then to yield. And, verily, since 
this is the height of thy stomach, now they are at a distance from us, 
should they appear to thee as they did to him, they might put thee 
to second thoughts. 

But, consider again, they are but journeyman thieves, they serve 
under the king of the bottomless pit, who, if need be, will come in 
to their aid himself, and his voice is as the roaring of a lion.* I my- 
self have been engaged as this Little-faith was, and I found it a ter- 
rible thing. These three villains set upon me, and I beginning, like 
a Christian, to resist, they gave but a call, and in came their master. 
I would, as the saying is, have given my life for a penny; but that, as 
God would have it, I was clothed with armour of proof. Aye, and 
yet, though I was so harnessed, I found it hard work to quit myself 
like a man. No man can tell what in that combat attends us, but 
he that hath been in the battle himself. 

Hope. Well, but they ran, you see, when they did but suppose 
that one Great-grace was in the way. 

Chr. True, they have often fled, both they and their master, when 
Great-grace hath but appeared ; and no marvel ; for he is the King's 
Champion. But, I trow, you will put some difference betwixt Little- 
faith and the King's Champion. All the King's subjects are not his 
champions, nor can they, when tried, do such feats of war as he. Is 
it meet to think that a little child should handle Goliah as David 
did? Or that there should be the strength of an ox in a wren? 
Some are strong, some are weak ; some have great faith, some have 
little. This man was one of the weak, and therefore he went to the 
wall. 

Hope. I would it had been Great-grace for their sakes. 

Chr. If it had been, he might have had his hands full ; for I must 
tell you, that though Great-grace is excellent good at his weapons, 
and has, and can, so long as he keeps them at sword's point, do well 
enough with them ; yet, if they get within him, even Faint-heart, 
Mistrust, or the other, it shall go hard but they will throw up his 
heels. And when a man is down, you know, what can he do ? 

Whoso looks well upon Great-grace's face, shall see those scars 
and cuts there, that shall easily give demonstration of what I say. 
Yea, once I heard that he should say (and that when he was inthecom- 
bat), " We despaired even of life." How did these sturdy rogues 
and their fellows make David groan, mourn, and roar? Yea, Heman, 
and Hezekiah, too, though champions in their day, were forced to 
bestir them, when by these assaulted ; and yet, notwithstanding, they 
had their coats soundly brushed by them. Peter, upon a time, would 
* Psa. vii. 2 ; 1 Pet. v. 8. 



98 GOD PROTECTS CHRISTIANS. 

go try what he could do; but though some do say of him that he is 
the prince of the apostles, they handled him so, that they made him 
at last afraid of a sorry girl. 

Besides their king is at their whistle. He is never out of hearing ; 
and if at any time they be put to the worst, he, if possible, comes in 
to help them ; and of him it is said, "The sword of him that layeth 
at him cannot hold : the spear, the dart, nor the habergeon. He es- 
teemeth iron as straw, and brass as rotten wood. The arrow cannot 
make him flee; sling stones are turned with him into stubble. Darts 
are counted as stubble : he laugheth at the shaking of a spear."* 
What can a man do in this case? It is true, if a man could, at every 
turn, have Job's horse, and had skill and courage to ride him, he 
might do notable things ; " for his neck is clothed with thunder, he 
will not be afraid of the grasshopper; the glory of his nostrils is terri- 
ble : he paweth in the valley, and rejoiceth in his strength, he goeth 
on to meet the armed men. He mocketh at fear, and is not affrighted, 
neither turneth he back from the sword. The quiver rattleth against 
him, the glittering spear, and the shield. He swalloweth the ground 
with fierceness and rage, neither believeth he that it is the sound of 
the trumpet. He saith among the trumpets, Ha, ha ! and he smell- 
eth the battle afar off, the thunder of the captains, and the shout- 
ing."! 

But for such footmen as thee and I are, let us never desire to meet 
with an enemy, nor vaunt as if we could do better, when we hear of 
others that they have been foiled, nor be tickled at the thoughts of 
our own manhood ; for such commonly come by the worst when tried. 
Witness Peter, of whom I made mention before. He would swagger, 
ay, he would ; he would, as his vain mind prompted him to say, do 
better, and stand more for his Master than all men ; but who so 
foiled, and run down by these villains, as he ? 

When, therefore, we hear that such robberies are done on the 
King's highway, two things become us to do : i. To go out har- 
nessed and to be sure to take a shield with us: for it was for want of 
that, that he that laid so lustily at Leviathan could not make him 
yield: for, indeed, if that be wanting, he fears us not at all. There- 
fore, he that had skill hath said, "Above all, taking the shield of 
faith, wherewith ye shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the 
wicked. "J 

2. It is good, also, that we desire of the King a convoy, yea, that 
he will go with us himself. This made David rejoice when in the 
Valley of the Shadow of Death ; and Moses was rather for dying 
where he stood, than to go one step without his God.§ Oh, my 

* Job xli. 26 — 29. t Job xxxix. 19 — 25. \ Eph. vi. 16. § Exod. xxxiii. 15. 



CAUGHT IN THE NET. 



99 



brother, if he will but go along with us, what need we be afraid of 
ten thousands that shall set themselves against us ?* But, without 
him, the proud helpers "fall under the slain. "t 

I, for my part, have been in the fray before now; and though, 
through the goodness of him that is best, I am, as you see, alive; 
yet I cannot boast of my manhood. Glad shall I be, if I meet with 
no more such brunts; though I fear we are not got beyond all danger. 
However, since the lion and the bear have not as yet devoured me, I 
hope God will also deliver us from the next uncircumcised Philistine. 
Then sang Christian — 

" Poor Little-faith ! Hast been among the thieves ? 
Wast robb'd? Remember this, whoso believes, 
And gets more faith, shall then a victor be 
Over ten thousand, else scarce over three." 

So they went on, and Ignorance followed. They went then till they 
came at a place where they saw a way put itself into their way, and. 
seemed withal to lie as straight as the way which they should go: and 
here they knew not which of the two to take, for both seemed straight 
before them; therefore, here they stood still to consider. And as they 
were thinking about the way, behold a man, black of flesh, but 
covered with a very light robe, came to them, and asked them why. 
they stood there. They answered they were going to the Celestial 
City, but knew not which of these ways to take. Follow me, said 
the man, it is thither that I am going. So they followed him in the 
way that but now came into the road, which by degrees turned and 
turned them so from the city that they desired to go to, that, in little 
time, their faces were turned away from it ; yet they followed him. 
But by-and-by, before they were aware, he led them both within the 
compass of a net, in which they were both so entangled, that they 
knew not what to do ; and with that the white robe fell off the black 
man's back. Then they saw where they were. Wherefore, there 
they lay crying some time, for they could not get themselves out. 

Chr. Then said Christian to his fellow, Now I do see myself .in 
error. Did not the Shepherds bid us beware of the flatterers ? As 
is the saying of the wise man, so we have found it this day, " A man 
that flattereth his neighbour, spreadeth a net for his feet."$ 

Hope. They also gave us a note of directions about the way, for 
our more sure finding thereof; but therein we have also forgotten to 
read, and have not kept ourselves from the paths of the destroyer. 
Here David was wiser than we; for, saith he, " Concerning the works 
of men, by the word of thy lips I have kept me from the paths of 
the destroyer. "§ Thus they lay bewailing themselves in the net. 

* Psa. iii. s—8 ; xxvii. i — 3. t Isa. x. 4. J V-ov. xxix. v. § Psa. xvii. 4. 

H 2 



ioo THE SHINING ONE REPROVES THEM. 

At last they espied a Shining One coming towards them with a whip 
of small cord in his hand. When he was come to the place where 
they were, he asked them whence they came, and what they did 
there. They told him that they were poor pilgrims going to Zion, 
but were led out of their way by a black man, clothed in white, who 
bid us, said they, follow him, for he was going thither too. Then said 
he with the whip, It is Flatterer, a false apostle, that hath transformed 
himself into an angel of light.* So he rent the net, and let the men 
out. Then said he to them, Follow me, that I may set you in 
your way again. So he led them back to the way which they had 
left to follow the Flatterer. Then he asked them, saying, Where did 
you lie the last night ? They said, with the Shepherds, upon the 
Delectable Mountains. He asked them then, if they had not of 
those Shepherds a note of direction for the way. They answered, 
Yes. But did you, said he, when you were at a stand, pluck out and 
read your note ? They answered, No. He asked them, Why ? 
They said, they forgot. He asked, moreover, if the Shepherds did 
not bid them beware of the Flatterer. They answered, Yes, but we 
did not imagine, said they, that this fine-spoken man had been he.f 
Then I saw in my dream, that he commanded them to lie down ; 
which when they did, he chastised them sore, to teach them the good 
way wherein they should walk.t and as he chastised them he said, 
"As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten; be zealous, therefore, 
and repent. "§ This done, he bid them go on their way, and take 
good heed to the other directions of the Shepherds. So they 
thanked him for all his kindness, and went softly along the right 
way, singing — 

" Come hither, you that walk along the way ; 
See how the pilgrims fare that go astray ! 
They catchecl are in an entangled net, 
'Cause they good counsel lightly did forget : 
'Tis true they rescued were, but yet you see, 
They're scourged to boot. Lee this your caution be." 

Now, after a while, they perceived, afar off, one coming softly and 
alone, all along the highway to meet them. Then said Christian to 
his fellow, Yonder is a man with his back towards Zion, and he is 
coming to meet us. 

Hope. I see him ; let us take heed to ourselves now, lest he should 
prove a flatterer also. So he drew nearer and nearer, and at last 
came up unto them. His name was Atheist, and he asked them 
whither they were going. 

Chr. We are going to Mount Zion. 

• Dan. xi. 32 ; 2 Cor. xi. 13, 14. t Rom. xvi. 18. 

X Deut. xxv. 2. ' 9 Rev. iii. 19. 



A THE IS T MEE TS THEM. 101 

Then Atheist fell into a very great laughter. 

ChR. What is the meaning of your laughter? 

Atheist. I laugh to see what ignorant persons you are, to take 
upon you so tedious a journey, and you are like to have nothing but 
your travel for your pains. 

Chr. Why, man, do you think we shall not be received? 

Atheist. Received ! There is no such place as you dream of in 
all this world. 

Chr. But there is in the world to come. 

Atheist. When I was at home in mine own country, I heard as 
you now affirm, and from that hearing went out to see, and have 
been seeking this city these twenty years ; but find no more of it than 
I did the first day I set out.* 

Chr. We have both heard and believe that there is such a place 
to be found. 

Atheist. Had not I, when at home, believed, I had not come 
thus far to seek ; but findkjg none (and yet I should, had there been 
such a place to be found, ior I have gone to seek it further than you), 
I am going back again, and will seek to refresh myself with the 
things that I then cast away, for hopes of that which I now see is 
not. 

Chr. Then said Christian to Hopeful his fellow, Is it true which 
this man hath said? 

Hope. Take heed, he is one of the flatterers ; remember what it 
hath cost us once already for our hearkening to such 
kind of fellows. What ! no Mount Zion? Did we A remembrance 
not see, from the Delectable Mountains, the gate of ° f former chas- 

. ' . .. . x 11 i_ r -i.i -> tisementsisahelp 

the city ? Also, are we not now to walk by faith ? against present 
Let us go on, said Hopeful, lest the man with the temptations, 
whip overtake us again. t 

You should have taught me that lesson, which I will round you in 
the ears withal : " Cease, my son, to hear the instruction that causeth 
to err from the words of knowledge. "J I say, my brother, cease to 
hear him, and let us " believe to the saving of the soul."§ 

Chr. My brother, I did not put the question to thee for that I 
doubted of the truth of our belief myself, but to prove thee, and to fetch 
from thee a fruit of the honesty of thy heart. As for this man, I 
know that he is blinded by the god of this world. Let thee and me 
go on, knowing, that we have belief of the truth, "and no lie is of 
the truth."!! 

Hope. Now do I rejoice in hope of the glory of God. So they 

* Psa. xiv. i ; Eccles. x. 15. t Prov. xix. 29. t Prov. xix. 27. 

t Heb. x. 39. B 1 John ii. 21. 



J02 , DROWSINESS AVOIDED. 

turned away from the man ; and he laughing at them, went his 
way. 

' I saw then in my dream, that they went till they came into a cer- 
tain country, whose air naturally tended to make one drowsy, if he 
came a stranger into it. And here Hopeful began to be very dull 
and heavy of sleep ; wherefore he said unto Christian, I do now begin 
to grow so drowsy that I can scarcely hold up mine eyes ; let us lie 
down here and take one nap. 

Chr. By no means, said the other ; lest sleeping, we never awake 
.nore. 

Hope. Why, my brother? Sleep is sweet to the labouring man ; 
we may be refreshed if we take a nap. 

Chr. Do you not remember that one of the Shepherds bid us be- 
ware of the Enchanted Ground ? He meant by that, that we should 
beware of sleeping ; ' ' Therefore let us not sleep, as do others, but 
let us watch and be sober."* 

Hope. I acknowledge myself in a fa^Jt ; and had I been here 
alone, I had by sleeping run the danger of death. I see it is true 
that the wise man saith, "Two are better than one."t Hitherto 
hath thy company been my mercy, and thou shalt have a good re- 
ward for thy labour. 

Chr. Now then, said Christian, to prevent drowsiness in this 
place, let us fall into good discourse. 

Hope. With all my heart, said the other. 

Good discourse Chr. Where shall we begin ? 
prevents drowsi- UoFE where God began with us. But do you 
begin, if you please. 

Chr. I will sing you first this song : — 

11 When saints do sleepy grow, let them come hither, 
And hear how these two pilgrims talk together : 
Yea, let them learn of them, in any wise, 
Thus to keep ope their drowsy slumb'ring eyes. 
Saints' fellowship, if it be managed well, 
Keeps them awake, and that in spite of hell." 

Chr. Then Christian began and said, I will ask you a question. 
How came you to think at first of so doing as you do now? 

Hope. Do you mean, how came I at first to look after the good 
of my soul ? 

Chr. Yes, that is my meaning. 

Hope. I continued a great while in the delight of those things 
which were seen and sold at our fair; things which I believe now, 
would have, had I continued in them still, drowned me in perdition 
and destruction. 

* i Thess. v. 6. t Eccles. iv. 9. 



THE CONVERSATION. 103 

Chr. What things are they? 

Hope. All the treasures and riches of the world. Also I delighted 
much in rioting, revelling, drinking, swearing, lying, uncleanness, 
Sabbath-breaking, and what not, that tended to destroy the soul. 
But I found at last, by hearing and considering of things that are 
Divine, which indeed I heard of you, as also of beloved Faithful, 
that was put to death for his faith and good living in Vanity Fair, 
that ' ' the end of these things is death. "* And that for these things' 
sake " cometh the wrath of God upon the children of disobedience, "t 

Chr. And did you presently fall under the power of this convic- 
tion? 

Hope. No, I was not willing presently to know the evil of sin, nor 
the damnation that follows upon the commission of it ; but endea- 
voured, when my mind at first began to be shaken with the Word, to 
shut mine eyes against the light thereof. 

Chr. But what was the cause of your carrying of it thus to the 
first workings of God's blessed Spirit upon you? 

Hope. The causes were, 1. I was ignorant that this was the work 
of God upon me. I never thought that, by awakenings for sin, God 
at first begins the conversion of a sinner. 2. Sin was yet very sweet 
to my flesh, and I was loth to leave it. 3. I could not tell how to 
part with mine old companions, their presence and actions were so 
desirable unto me. 4. The hours in which convictions were upon 
me, were such troublesome and such heart-affrighting hours, that I 
could not bear, no not so much as the remembrance of them upon 
my heart. 

Chr. Then, as it seems, sometimes you got rid of your trouble. 

Hope. Yes, verily, but it would come into my mind again, and 
then I should be as bad, nay, worse, than I was before. 

Chr. Why, what was it that brought your sins to mind again? 

Hope. Many things ; as, 

1. If I did but meet a good man in the streets ; or, 

2. If I have heard any read in the Bible ; or, 

3. If mine head did begin to ache ; or, 

4. If I were told that some of my neighbours were sick ; or, 

5. If I heard the bell toll for some that were dead ; or, 

6. If I thought of dying myself ; or, 

7. If I heard that sudden death happened to others ; 

8. But especially, when I thought of myself, that I must quickly 
come to judgment. 

Chr. And could you at any time, with ease, get off the guilt of 
sin, when by any of these ways it came upon you ? 

* Rom. vi. 21—23. + Ephes. v. 6. 



104 HOPEFULS STORY. 

Hope. No, not I, for then they got faster hold of my conscience ; 
and then, if I did but think of going back to sin (though my mind 
was turned against it), it would be double torment to me. 

Chr. And how did you do then? 

Hope. I thought I must endeavour to mend my life; for else, 
thought I, I am sure to be damned. 

Chr. And did you endeavour to mend? 

Hope. Yes ; and fled from not only my sins, but sinful company 
too ; and betook me to religious duties, as prayer, reading, weeping 
for sin, speaking truth to my neighbours, &c. These things did I, 
with many others, too much here to relate. 

Chr. And did you think yourself well then? 

Hope. Yes, for a while ; but at the last, my trouble came tumbling 
upon me again, and that over the neck of all my reformations. 

Chr. How came that about, since you were now reformed? 

Hope. There were several things brought it upon me, especially 
such sayings as these : " All our righteousnesses are as filthy rags."* 
1 ' By the works of the law shall no flesh be justified, "f ' ' When ye shall 
have done all those things, say, We are unprofitable;"! with many more 
such like. From whence I began to reason with myself thus : If all 
my righteousnesses are filthy rags ; if, by the deeds of the law, no 
man can be justified ; and if, when we have done all, we are yet un- 
profitable, then it is but a folly to think of heaven by the law. I further 
thought thus : If a man runs a hundred pounds into the shopkeeper's 
debt, and after that shall pay for all that he shall fetch ; yet, if this 
old debt stands still in the book uncrossed, for that the shopkeeper 
may sue him, and cast him into prison till he shall pay the debt. 

Chr. Well, and how did you apply this to yourself? 

Hope. W r hy, I thought thus with myself: I have, by my sins, run 
a great way into God's book, and that my now reforming will not 
pay off that score ; therefore I should think still, under all my pre- 
sent amendments, But how shall I be freed from that damnation 
that I have brought myself in danger of, by my former transgres- 
sions? 

Chr. A very good application : but pray go on. 

Hope. Another thing that hath troubled me, even since my late 
amendments, is, that if I look narrowly into the best of what 1 do 
now, I still see sin, new sin, mixing itself with the best of that I do ; 
so that now I am forced to conclude, that notwithstanding my former 
fond conceits of myself and duties, I have committed sin enough in 
one day to send me to hell, though my former life had been faultless. 

Chr. And what did you do then ? 

* Isa. lxiv. 6. t Gal. ii. 16. % Luke xvii. 10. 



THE WAY TO BE SAVED. 105 

Hope. Do ! I could not tell what to do, until I brake my mind to 
Faithful, for he and I were well acquainted. And he told me, that 
unless I could obtain the righteousness of a man that never had 
sinned, neither mine own, nor all the righteousness of the world could 
save me. 

Chr. And did you think he spake true ? 

Hope. Had he told me so when I was pleased and satisfied with 
mine own amendment, I had called him fool for his pains ; but now, 
since I see mine own infirmity, and the sin that cleaves to my best 
performance, I have been forced to be of his opinion. 

Chr. But did you think, when at first he suggested it to you, that 
there was such a man to be found, of whom it might justly be said, 
that he never committed sin ? 

Hope. I must confess the words at first sounded strangely, but 
after a little more talk and company with him, I had full conviction 
about it. 

Chr. And did you ask him what man this was, and how you must 
be justified by him ? 

Hope. Yes, and he told me it was the Lord Jesus, that dwelleth 
on the right hand of the Most High. And thus, said he, you must 
be justified by him, even by trusting to what he hath done by him- 
self, in the days of his flesh, and suffered when he did hang on the 
tree. I asked him further, how that man's righteousness could be 
of that efficacy to justify another before God ? And 
he told me he was the mighty God, and did what he A m ? re particu- 
did, and died the death also, not for himself, but for t he way V to y be 
me; to whom his doings, and the worthiness of saved. 
them, should be imputed, if I believed on Him.* 

Chr. And what did you do then ? 

Hope. I made my objections against my believing, for that I 
thought he was not willing to save me. 

Chr. And what said Faithful to you then? 

Hope. He bid me go to Him and see. Then I said it was pre- 
sumption ; but he said, No, for I was invited to come.t Then he 
gave me a book of Jesus' inditing, to encourage me the more freely 
to come ; and he said, concerning that book, that every jot and tittle 
thereof stood firmer than heaven and earth. % Then I asked him, 
What I must do when I came ; and he told me, I must entreat upon 
my knees, with all my heart and soul, the Father to reveal him to 
me.§ Then I asked him further, how I must make my supplication 
to Him ? And he said, Go, and thou shalt find Him upon a mercy- 

* Heb. x. ; Rom. iv. ; Col. i. ; i Pet. i. t Matt. xi. 28. 

% Matt. xxiv. 35. § Psa. xcv. 6 ; Dan. vi. 10 ; Jer. xxix. 12, 13. 



io6 HOPEFUL SA FED. 

scat,* where He sits all the year long, to give pardon and for- 
giveness to them that come. I told him that I knew not what to 
say when I came. And he bid me say to this effect: "God be 
merciful to me a sinner, and make me to know and believe in Jesus 
Christ ; for I see, that if his righteousness had not been, or I have not 
faith in that righteousness, I am utterly cast away. Lord, I have 
heard that thou art a merciful God, and hast ordained that thy Son 
Jesus Christ should be the Saviour of the world ; and moreover, that 
thou art willing to bestow him upon such a poor sinner as I am (and I 
am a sinner indeed) ; Lord, take therefore this opportunity, and 
magnify thy grace in the salvation of my soul, through thy Son 
Jesus Christ. Amen.t 

Chr. And did you do as you were bidden? 

Hope. Yes ; over, and over, and over. 

Chr. And did the Father reveal his Son to you? 

Hope. Not at the first, nor second, nor third, nor fourth, nor 
fifth ; no, nor at the sixth time neither. 

Chr. What did you do then? 

Hope. What ! why, I could not tell what to do. 

Chr. Had you not thoughts of leaving off praying ? 

Hope. Yes ; an hundred times twice told. 

Chr. And what was the reason you did not? 

Hope. I believed that that was true which had been told me, to 
wit, that without the righteousness of this Christ, all the world could 
not save me ; and therefore, thought I with myself, if I leave off I 
die, and I can but die at the throne of grace. And withal, this came 
into my mind, "Though it tarry, wait for it ; because it will surely 
come, it will not tarry. "t So I continued praying until the P^ather 
showed me his Son. 

Chr. And how was he revealed unto you? 

Hope. I did not see him with my bodily eyes, but with the eyes of 
my understanding^ and thus it was: One day I was very sad, I 
think sadder than at any one time in my life, and this sadness was 
through a fresh sight of the greatness and vilcness of my sins. And 
as I was then looking for nothing but hell, and the everlasting dam- 
nation of my soul, suddenly, as I thought, I saw the Lord Jesus 
Christ look down from heaven upon me, and saying, " Believe on 
the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved. "|| 

But I replied, Lord, I am a great, a very great sinner. And he 
answered, " My grace is sufficient for thee. "If Then I said, But, 
Lord, what is believing? And then I saw from that saying, "He 

* Heb. to. 16. t Exod. xxv. 22 ; Lev. xvi. 2 ; Num. vii. 89. 

t Hab. ii. 3. * Eph. i. 18, 19. |] Acts xvi. 31. ^ 2 Cor. xii. 9. 



HE PERCEIVES IGNORANCE. 107 

that cometh to me shall never hunger, and he that believeth on me 
shall never thirst,"* that believing and coming was all one ; and that 
he that came, that is, ran out in his heart and affections after salva- 
tion by Christ, he indeed believed in Christ. Then the water stood 
in mine eyes, and I asked further, But, Lord, may such a great 
sinner as I am be indeed accepted of thee, and be saved by thee ? 
And I heard him say, "And him that cometh to me, I will in no wise 
cast out."t Then I said, But how, Lord, must I consider of thee in 
my coming to thee, that my faith may be placed aright upon thee? 
Then he said, " Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, "t 
*' He is the end of the law for righteousness to every one that be- 
lieveth.'^ "He died for our sins, and rose again for our justifica- 
tion."!! "He loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own 
blood. "1 "He is mediator betwixt God and us."** "He ever 
liveth to make intercession for us. "ft From all which I gathered, 
that I must look for righteousness in His person, and for satisfaction 
for my sins by His blood ; that what He did in obedience to his 
Father's law, and in submitting to the penalty thereof, was not for 
Himself, but -for him that will accept it for his salvation, and be 
thankful. And now was my heart full of joy, mine eyes full of tears, 
and mine affections running over with love to the name, people, and 
ways of Jesus Christ. 

, Chr. This was a revelation of Christ to your soul indeed ; but tell 
me particularly what effect this had upon your spirit. 

Hope. It made me see that all the world, notwithstanding all the 
righteousness thereof, is in a state of condemnation. It made me 
see that God the Father, though He be just, can justly justify the 
coming sinner. It made me greatly ashamed of the vileness of my 
former life, and confounded me with the sense of mine own igno- 
rance ; for there never came thought into my heart before now, that 
showed me so the beauty of Jesus Christ. It made me love a holy 
life, and long to do something for the honour and glory of the name 
of the Lord Jesus ; yea, I thought that had I now a thousand gallons 
of blood in my body, I could spill it all for the sake of the Lord 
Jesus. 

I saw then in my dream, that Hopeful looked back and saw Igno- 
rance, whom they had left behind, coming after. Look, said he to 
Christian, how far yonder youngster loitereth behind. 

Chr. Ay, ay, I see him ; he careth not for our company. 

Hope. But I trow it would not have hurt hicn, had he kept pace 
with us hitherto. 

* John vi. 35. t John vi. 37. t * Tim. i. 15. § Rom. x. 4. 

II Rom. iv. 25. % Rev. i. 5. , ** x Tim. ii. 5. tt Heb. vii. 25. 



10S IGNORANCE TALKS. 

Chr. That is true ; but I warrant you, he thinketh otherwise. 

Hope. That, I think, he doth ; but however, let us tarry for him. 
So they did. 

Then Christian said to him, Come away, man, why do you stay so 
behind? 

Ignor. I take my pleasure in walking alone, even more a great 
deal than in company, unless I like it the better. 

Then said Christian to Hopeful (but softly), Did I not tell you he 
cared not for our company ? But, however, said he, come up, and 
Jet us talk away the time in this solitary place. Then directing his 
speech to Ignorance, he said, Come, how do you? How stands it 
between God and your soul now ? 

Ignor. I hope well ; for I am always full of good motions, that 
come into my mind, to comfort me as I walk. 

Chr. What good motions? pray tell us. 

Ignor. Why, I think of God and heaven. 

Chr. So do the devils and damned souls. 

Ignor. But I think of them and desire them. 

Chr. So do many that are never like to come there. "The soul 
of the sluggard desireth, and hath nothing."* 

Ignor. But I think of them, and leave all for them. 

Chr. That I doubt ; for leaving all is a hard matter : yea, a harder 
matter than many are aware of. But why, or by what, art thou per- 
suaded that thou hast left all for God and heaven? 

Ignor. My heart tells me so. 

Chr. The wise man says, "He that trusts his own heart is a 
fool."t 

Ignor. This is spoken of an evil heart, but mine is a good one. 

Chr. But how dost thou prove that? 

Ignor. It comforts me in hopes of heaven. 

Chr. That may be through its deceitfulness ; for a man's heart 
may minister comfort to him in the hopes of that thing for which he 
yet has no ground to hope. 

Ignor. But my heart and life agree together, and therefore my 
hope is well grounded. 

Chr. Who told thee that thy heart and life agree together? 

Ignor. My heart tells me so. 

Chr. Ask my fellow if I be a thief! Thy heart tells thee so ! 
Except the Word of God beareth witness in this matter, other testi- 
mony is of no value. 

Ignor. But is it not a good heart that hath good thoughts? and 
is not that a good life that is according to Gods commandments? 

• Prov. xiii. 4. t Prov. xxviii. 26. 



CHRISTIAN INSTRUCTS HIM. 109 

Chr. Yes, that is a good heart that hath good thoughts, and that 
is a good life that is according to God's commandments ; but it is 
one thing, indeed, to have these, and another thing only to think so. 

Ignor. Pray what count you good thoughts, and a life accord- 
ing to God's commandments ? 

Chr. There are good thoughts of divers kinds ; some respecting 
ourselves, some God, some Christ, and some other things. 

Ignor. What be good thoughts respecting ourselves ? 

Chr. Such as agree with the Word of God. 

Ignor. When do our thoughts of ourselves agree with the Word of 
God? 

Chr. When we pass the same judgment upon ourselves which the 
Word passes. To explain myself — the Word of God saith of persons 
in a natural condition, " There is none righteous, there is none that 
doethgood."* It saith also, that " every imagination of the heart 
of man is only evil, and that continually. "t And again, " The ima- 
gination of man's heart is evil from his youth, "t Now then, when 
we think thus of ourselves, having sense thereof, then are our thoughts 
good ones, because according to the Word of God. 

Ignor. I will never believe that my heart is thus bad. 

Chr. Therefore thou never hadst one good thought concerning 
thyself in thy life. But let me go on. As the Word passeth a judg- 
ment upon our heart, so it passeth a judgment upon our ways ; and 
when our thoughts of our hearts and ways agree with the judgment 
which the Word giveth of both, then are both good, because agree- 
ing thereto. 

Ignor. Make out your meaning. 

Chr. Why, the Word of God saith that man's ways are crooked 
ways ; not good, but perverse. § It saith they are naturally out of 
the good way, that they have not known it. II Now, when a man 
thus thinketh of his ways ; I say, when he doth sensibly, and with 
heart-humiliation, thus think, then hath he good thoughts of his own 
ways, because his thoughts now agree with the judgment of the Word 
of God. 

Ignor. What are good thoughts concerning God? 

Chr. Even as I have said concerning ourselves, when our thoughts 
of God do agree with what the Word saith of him; and that is, when 
we think of his being and attributes as the Word hath taught, of 
which I cannot now discourse at large ; but to speak of him with re- 
ference to us : Then we have right thoughts of God, when we think 
that he knows us better than we know ourselves, and can see sin in 

* Rom. iii. 10, ir, 12. t Gen. vi. $.** X Gen. viii. 21. 

$ Psa. cxxv. 5 ; Prov. ii. 15. [| Rom. iii. 12. 



no THE FAITH OF IGNORANCE. 

us when and where we can see none in ourselves ; when we think He 
knows our inmost thoughts, and that our heart, with all its depths, 
is always open unto His eyes ; also, when we think that all our 
righteousness stinks in His nostrils, and that, therefore, He cannot 
abide to see us stand before Him in any confidence, even in all our 
best performances. 

Ignor. Do you think that I am such a fool as to think God can 
see no further than I ? or, that I would come to God in the best of 
my performances ? 

Chr. Why, how dost thou think in this matter? 

Ignor. Why, to be short, I think I must believe in Christ for 
justification. 

Chr. How ! think thou must believe in Christ, when thou seest 
not thy need of Him ! Thou neither seest thy original nor actual 
infirmities ; but hast such an opinion of thyself, and of what thou 
dost, as plainly renders thee to be one that did never see a necessity 
of Christ's personal righteousness to justify thee before God. How, 
then, dost thou say, I believe in Christ? 

Ignor. I believe well enough for all that. 

Chr. How dost thou believe ? 

Ignor. I believe that Christ died for sinners ; and that I shall be 

justified before God from the curse, through His 

The faith of igno- gracious acceptance of my obedience to his law. 

Or thus, Christ makes my duties, that are religious, 

acceptable to his Father, by virtue of his merits ; and so shall I be 

justified. 

Chr. Let me give an answer to this confession of thy faith. 

i. Thou believest with a fantastical faith ; for this faith is nowhere 
described in the Word. 

2. Thou believest with a false faith ; because it taketh justification 
from the personal righteousness of Christ, and applies it to thy own. 

3. This faith maketh not Christ a justifier of thy person, but of 
thy actions ; and of thy person for thy actions' sake, which is false. 

4. Therefore, this faith is deceitful, even such as will leave thee 
under wrath, in the day of God Almighty ; for true justifying faith 
puts the soul (as sensible of its condition by the law), upon flying for 
refuge unto Christ's righteousness, which righteousness of His is not 
an act of grace, by which He maketh, for justification, thy obedience 
accepted with God ; but his personal obedience to the law, in doing 
and suffering for us what that required at our hands ; this righteous- 
ness, I say, true faith accepteth ; under the skirt of which, the soul 
being shrouded, and by it presented as spotless before God, it is 
accepted, and acquit from condemnation. 



IGNORANCE STAYS BEHIND. in 

IGNOR. What ! would you have us trust to what Christ, in his own 
person, has done without us ? This conceit would loosen the reins 
of our lust, and tolerate us to live as we list ; for what matter how 
we live, if we may be justified by Christ's personal righteousness from 
all, when we believe it ? 

Chr. Ignorance is thy name, and as thy name is, so art thou ; 
even this thy answer demonstrated what I say. Ignorant thou art 
of what justifying righteousness is, and as ignorant how to secure 
thy soul, through the faith of it, from the heavy wrath of God. Yea, 
thou also art ignorant of the true effects of saving faith in this right- 
eousness of Christ, which is, to bow and win over the heart to God 
in Christ, to love His name, His word, ways, and people, and not as. 
thou ignorantly imaginest. 

Hope. Ask him if ever he had Christ revealed to him from heaven. 

Ignor. What ! you are a man for revelations ! I believe that what 
both you, and all the rest of you, say about that matter, is but the 
fruit of distracted brains. 

Hope. Why, man ! Christ is so hid in God from the natural appre- 
hensions of the flesh, that he cannot by any man be savingly known, 
unless God the Father reveals him to them. 

Ignor. That is your faith, but not mine ; yet mine, I doubt not, 
is as good as yours, though I have not in my head so many whimsies 
as you. 

Chr. Give me leave to put in a word. You ought not so slightly 
to speak of this matter; for this I will boldly afhrm, even as my good 
companion hath done, that no man can know Jesus Christ but by the 
revelation of the Father,* yea, and faith too, by which the soullayeth 
hold upon Christ, if it be right, must be wrought by the exceeding 
greatness of his mighty power ; the working of which faith, I per- 
ceive, poor Ignorance, thou art ignorant o£t Be aw r akened, then, 
see thine own wretchedness, and fly to the Lord Jesus ; and by His 
righteousness, which is the righteousness of God (for He Himself is 
God), thou shalt be delivered from condemnation. 

Ignor. You go fast, I cannot keep pace with you. Do you go on 
before ; I must stay a while behind. ' 

Then they said — 

" Well, Ignorance, wilt thou yet foolish be, 
To slight good counsel, ten times given thee? 
And, if thou yet refuse it, thou shalt know, 
Ere long, the evil of thy doing so. 
Remember, man, in time ; stoop, do not fear ; 
Good counsel taken well, saves : therefore hear 
But if thou yet shall slight it, thou wilt be 
The loser, Ignorance, I'll warrant thee." 
* Matt. xi. 27. t 1 Cor. xii. 3 ; Eph. i. 17—19 



ii2 CHRISTIAN PITIES IGNORANCE. 

Then Christian addressed thus himself to his fellow : — 
Ciir. Well, come, my good Hopeful, I perceive that thou and I 
must walk by ourselves again. 

So I saw in my dream that they went on apace before, and Igno- 
rance he came hobbling after. Then said Christian to his companion, 

I am much grieved for this poor man, it will certainly go ill with him 
at last. 

Hope. Alas ! there are abundance in our town in his condition, 
whole families, yea, whole streets, and that of pilgrims too ; and if 
there be so many in our parts, how many, think you, must there be 
in the place where he was born ? 

Chr. Indeed the Word saith, " He hath blinded their eyes, lest 
they should see, " &c. But now we are by ourselves, what do you think 
of such men ? Have they at no time, think you, convictions of sin, 
•and so consequently fears that their state is dangerous? 

Hope. Nay, do you answer that question yourself, for you are the 
elder man. 

Chr. Then I say, sometimes (as I think) they may ; but they 
being naturally ignorant, understand not that such convictions tend 
to their good ; and therefore they do desperately seek to stifle them, 
and presumptuously continue to natter themselves in the way of their 
own hearts. 

Hope. I do believe, as you say, that fear tends much to men's 
£Ood, and to make them right, at their beginning to go on pilgri- 
mage. 

Chr. Without all doubt it doth, if it be right; for so says the Word, 

II The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom."* 
Hope. How will you describe right fear ? 

Chr. True or right fear is discovered by three things : — 
i. By its rise ; it is caused by saving convictions for sin. 

2. It driveth the soul to lay fast hold of Christ for salvation. 

3. It begetteth and continueth in the soul a great reverence of 
God, His Word, and ways, keeping it tender, and making it afraid 
to turn from them, to the right hand or to the left, to anything that 
may dishonour God, break its peace, grieve the Spirit, or cause the 
enemy to speak reproachfully. 

Hope. Well said ; I believe you have said the truth. Are wc now 
almost got past the Enchanted Ground ? 

Chr. Why, art thou weary of this discourse? 

Hope. No, verily, but that I would know where we are. 

Chr. We have not now above two miles further to go thereon. 

* Prov. i. 7 ; ix. 10 ; Psa. cxi. 10 ; Job xxviii. ?S. 




THE PILGRIMS CROSS THE RIVER. P. 



117. 



TURN B A CK FALLS AWAY. 113 

But let us return to our matter. Now the ignorant 
know not that such convictions as tend to put them Why ^°rant 
in fear are for their good, and therefore they seek to ?onvk:tions. S 
stifle them. 

Hope. How do they seek to stifle them ? 

Chr. 1. They think that those fears are wrought by the devil 
(though indeed they are wrought of God) ; and, thinking so, they 
resist them as things that directly tend to their overthrow. 2. They 
also think that these fears tend to the spoiling of their faith, when, 
alas for them, poor men that they are, they have none at all ! and 
therefore they harden their hearts against them. 3. They presume 
they ought not to fear ; and therefore, in despite of them, wax pre- 
sumptuously confident. 4. They see that those fears tend to take 
away from them their pitiful old self-holiness, and therefore they 
resist them with all their might. 

Hope. I know something of this myself ; for before I knew my- 
self, it was so with me. 

Chr. Well, we will leave, at this time, our neighbour Ignorance 
by himself, and fall upon another profitable question. 

Hope. With all my heart, but you shall still begin. 

Chr. Well, then, did you not know, about ten years ago, one 
Temporary in your parts, who was a forward man in religion then ? 

Hope. Know him ! yes, he dwelt in Graceless, a town about two 
miles off of Honesty, and he dwelt next door to one Turnback. 

Chr. Right, he dwelt under the same roof with him. Well, that 
man was much awakened once ; I believe that then he had some 
sight of his sins, and of the wages that were due thereto. 

Hope. I am of your mind, for, my house not being above three 
miles from him, he would ofttimes come to me, and that with many 
tears. Truly 1 pitied the man, and was not altogether without hope 
of him ; but one may see, it is not every one that cries, Lord, Lord. 

Chr. He told me once that he was resolved to go on pilgrimage, 
as we do now ; but all of a sudden he grew acquainted with one 
Save-self, and then he became a stranger to me. 

Hope. Now, since we are talking about him, let us a little inquire 
into the reason of the sudden backsliding of him and such others. 

Chr. It may be very profitable ; but do you begin. 

Hope. Well, then, there are in my judgment four reasons for it : — 

1. Though the consciences of such men are awakened, yet their 
minds are not changed ; therefore, when the power of guilt weareth 
away, that which provoked them to be religious ceaseth ; wherefore 
they naturally turn to their own course again, even as we see the dog 
that is sick of what he has eaten, so long as his sickness prevails, he 

I 



ii4 FEAR NOT CONVERSION. 

vomits and casts up all ; not that he doth this of a free mind (if we 
may say a dog has a mind), but because it troubleth his stomach ; 
but now, when his sickness is over, and so his stomach eased, his 
desire being not at all alienated from his vomit, he turns him about 
and licks up all, and so it is true which is written, "The dog is 
turned to his own vomit again."* Thus I say, being hot for heaven, 
by virtue only of the sense and fear of the torments of hell, as that 
sense of hell, and the fear of damnation, chills and cools, so their 
desires for heaven and salvation cool also. So then it comes to pass, 
that when their guilt and fear is gone, their desires for heaven and 
happiness die, and they return to their course again. 

2. Another reason is, they have slavish fears that do overmaster 
them ; I speak now of the fears that they have of men, for "the fear 
of man bringeth a snare, "t So then, though they seem to be hot 
for heaven, so long as the flames of hell are about their ears, yet 
when that terror is a little over, they betake themselves to second 
thoughts ; namely, that it is good to be wise, and not to run (for 
they know not what) the hazard of losing all, or, at least, of bringing 
themselves into unavoidable and unnecessary troubles, and so they 
fall in with the world again. 

3. The shame that attends religion lies also as a block in their 
way ; they are proud and haughty, and religion in their eye is low 
and contemptible ; therefore, when they have lost their sense of hell 
and wrath to come, they return again to their former course. 

4. Guilt, and to meditate terror, are grievous to them. They like 
not to see their misery before they come into it ; though perhaps the 
sight of it first, if they loved that sight, might make them fly whither 
the righteous fly and are safe. But because they do, as I hinted be- 
fore, even shun the thoughts of guilt and terror, therefore, when once 
they are rid of their awakenings about the terrors and wrath of God, 
they harden their hearts gladly, and choose such ways as will harden 
them more and more. 

Chr. You are pretty near the business, for the bottom of all is, 
for want of a change in their mind and will. And therefore they are 
but like the felon that standeth before the judge ; he quakes and 
trembles, and seems to repent most heartily, but the bottom of all is 
the fear of the halter ; not that he hath any detestation of the offence, 
as is evident, because, let but this man have his liberty, and he will 
be a thief and so a rogue still, whereas, if his mind was changed, 
he would be otherwise. 

Hope. Now I have showed you the reasons of their going back 
do you show me the manner thereof. 

* 2 Peter ii. 22. t Prov. xxix. 25. 



LAND OF BE UL AH. 



"5 



Chr. So I will willingly. 

1. They draw off their thoughts, all that they may, from the re- 
membrance of God, death, and judgment to come. 

2. Then they cast off by degrees private duties, as closet prayer, 
curbing their lusts, watching, sorrow for sin, and the like. 

3. Then they shun the company of lively and warm Christians. 

4. After that they grow cold to public duty, as hearing, reading, 
godly conference, and the like. 

5. Then they begin to pick holes, as we say, in the coats of some 
of the godly; and that devilishly, that they may have a seeming colour 
to throw religion (for the sake of some infirmities they have espied 
in them) behind their backs. 

6. Then they begin to adhere to, and associate themselves with, 
carnal, loose, and wanton men. 

7. Then they give way to carnal and wanton discourses in secret ; 
and glad are they if they can see such things in any that are counted 
honest, that they may the more boldly do it through their example. 

8. After this they begin to play with little sins openly. 

9. And then, being hardened, they show themselves as they are. 
Thus, being launched again into the gulf of misery, unless a miracle 
of grace prevent it, they everlastingly perish in their own de- 
ceivings. 

Now I saw in my dream, that by this time the Pilgrims were got 
over the Enchanted Ground, and entering into the country of Beulah, 
whose air was very sweet and pleasant, the way lying directly through 
it, they solaced themselves there for a season.* Yea, here they heard 
continually the singing of birds, and saw every day the flowers ap- 
pear in the earth, and heard the voice of the turtle in the land.f In 
this country the sun shineth night and day ; wherefore this was be- 
yond the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and also out of the reach 
of Giant Despair, neither could they from this place so much as see 
Doubting Castle. Here they were within sight of the city they were 
going to, also here met them some of the inhabitants 
thereof; for in this land the Shining Ones commonly Angels. 
walked, because it was upon the borders of heaven. 
In this land also, the contract between the bride and the bridegroom 
was renewed; yea, here, "As the bridegroom rejoiceth over the 
bride, so did their God rejoice over them."t Here they had no want 
of corn and wine ; for in this place they met with abundance of what 
they had sought for in all their pilgrimage. § Here they heard voices 
from out of the city, loud voices, saying, " Say ye to the daughter of 
Zion, Behold, thy salvation cometh ! Behold, his reward is with 

* Isa. Ixii. 4. t Can. ii. 10—12. \ Isa. Ixii. 5. $ Verse viii. 

I 2 



u6 NEAR THE HOLY CITY. 

him !"* Here all the inhabitants of the country called them, "The 
holy people, The redeemed of the Lord, Sought out," &ct 

Now, as they walked in this land, they had more rejoicing than in 
parts more remote from the kingdom to which they were bound ; 
and drawing near to the city, they had yet a more perfect view 
thereof. It was builded of pearls and precious stones, also the street 
thereof was paved with gold ; so that by reason of the natural glory 
of the city, and the reflection of the sunbeams upon it, Christian 
with desire fell sick ; Hopeful also had a fit or two of the same dis- 
ease. Wherefore, here they lay by it a while, crying out, because 
of their pangs, " If ye find my beloved, tell him that I am sick of 
love. "J 

But, being a little strengthened, and better able to bear their sick- 
ness, they walked on their way, and came yet nearer and nearer, 
where were orchards, vineyards, and gardens, and their gates opened 
into the highway. Now, as they came up to these places, behold 
the^gardener stood in the way, to whom the pilgrims said, Whose 
goodly vineyards and gardens are these ? He answered, They are 
the King's, and are planted here for his own delight, and also for 
the solace of pilgrims. So the gardener had them into the vine- 
yards, and bid them refresh themselves with the dainties. § He also 
showed them there the King's walks, and the arbours where he de- 
lighted to be ; and here they tarried and slept. 

Now I beheld in my dream, that they talked more in their sleep 
at this time than ever they did in all their journey ; and being in a 
muse thereabout, the gardener said even to me, Wherefore musest 
thou at the matter? It is the nature of the fruit of the grapes of 
these vineyards to go down so sweetly as to cause the lips of them 
that are asleep to speak. || 

So I saw that when they awoke, they addressed themselves to go 
up to the city ; but, as I said, the reflection of the sun upon the city 
(for "the city was pure gold")f was so extremely glorious, that they 
could not, as yet, with open face behold it, but through an instru- 
ment made for that purpose.** So I saw, that as I went on, there 
met them two men, in raiment that shone like gold ; also their faces 
shone as the light. 

These men asked the pilgrims whence they came ; and they told 
them. They also asked them where they had lodged, what diffi- 
culties and dangers, what comforts and pleasures they had met in 
the way ; and they told them. Then said the men that met them, 
You have but two difficulties more to meet with, and then you are 
in the city. 

* Isaiah lxii. n. t Isaiah xlii. 12. % Cant. v. 8. 

§ Deut. xxiii. 24. \ Cant. vii. 9. % Rev. xxi. 18. ** 2 Cor. iii. 18. 



THE DARK RIVER. 117 

Christian then, and his companion, asked the men to go along with 
them ; so they told them they would. But, said they, you must 
obtain it by your own faith. So I saw in my dream that they went on 
together, until they came in sight of the gate. 

Now, I further saw, that betwixt them and the gate was a river, 
but there was no bridge to go over, and the river was Death 

very deep. At the sight, therefore, of this river, the 
Pilgrims were much stunned ; but the men that went with them said, 
You must go through, or you cannot come at the gate. 

The Pilgrims then began to inquire if there was no other way to 
the gate ; to which they answed, Yes ; but there hath 
not any, save two, to wit, Enoch and Elijah, been Death is not wei- 
permitted to tread that path, since the foundation of though. by it we 
the world, nor shall, until the last trumpet shall pass out of this 
sound.* The Pilgrims then (especially Christian), worId lnto glory ' 
began to despond in their minds, and looked this way and that, but 
no way could be found by them, by which they might escape the 
river. Then they asked the men if the waters were all of a depth. 
They said, No : yet they could not help them in that case ; for, said 
they, you shall find it de&per or shallower, as you believe in the King 
of the place. 

They then addressed themselves to the water; and entering, Chris- 
tian began to sink, and crying out to his good friend Hopeful, he 
said, I sink in deep waters; the billows go over my head, all His 
waves go over me ! Selah. 

Then said the other, Be of good cheer, my brother, I feel the 
bottom, and it is good. Then said Christian, Ah ! my friend, "the 
sorrows of death have compassed me about ;" I shall not see the 
land that flows with milk and honey ; and with that a great darkness 
and horror fell upon Christian, so that he could not see before him. 
Also here he in a great measure lost his senses, so that he could 
neither remember, nor orderly talk of any of those sweet refreshments 
that he had met with in the way of his pilgrimage. But all the 
words that he spake still tended to discover that he had horror of 
mind, and heart-fears that he should die in that river, and never 
obtain entrance in at the gate. Here also, as they that stood by 
perceived, he was much in the troublesome thoughts of the sins that 
he had committed, both since and before he began to be a pilgrim. 
It was also observed that he was troubled with apparitions of hob- 
goblins and evil spirits, for ever and anon he would intimate so much 
by words. Hopeful, therefore, here had much ado to keep his 
brother's head above water ; yea, sometimes he would be quite gone 

* 1 Cor. xv. 51. 



n8 MINISTERING SPIRITS. 

down, and then, ere a while, he would rise up again half dead. 
Hopeful also did endeavour to comfort him, saying, Brother, I see 
the Gate, and men standing by to receive us ; but Christian would 
answer, It is you, it is you they wait for ; you have been Hopeful 
ever since I knew you. And so have you, said he to Christian. Ah, 
brother ! said he, surely if I was right He would now arise to help 
me ; but for my sins He hath brought me into the snare, and hath 
left me. Then said Hopeful, My brother, you have quite forgot the 
text, where it is said of the wicked, " There are no bands in their 
death, but their strength is firm. They are not in trouble as other 
men, neither are they plagued like other men."* These troubles and 
distresses that you go through in these waters are no sign that God 
hath forsaken you, but are sent to try you, whether you will call to 
mind that which heretofore you have received of his goodness, and 
live upon him in your distresses. 

Then I saw in my dream, that Christian was as in a muse a while. 
To whom also Hopeful added this word, Be of good cheer, Jesus 
Christ maketh thee whole ; and with that Christian brake out with a 
loud voice, Oh ! I see Him again, and He tells me, "When thou 
passest through the waters, I will be with thee ; and through the rivers, 
they shall not overflow thee." t Then they both took courage, and 
the enemy was after that as still as a stone, until they were gone over. 
Christian therefore presently found ground to stand upon, and so it 
followed that the rest of the riverwas but shallow. Thus they got over. 
Now, upon the bank of the river, on the other side, 

The angels do they saw the two shining men again, who there waited 

wait for them, so r .1 1 r t • . r ^1 ^1 

soon as they are for them ; wherefore, being come out of the river, they 
passed out of this saluted them, saying, We are ministering spirits, sent 
forth to minister for those that shall be heirs of sal- 
vation. Thus they went along towards the gate. 

" Now, now look how the holy pilgrims ride. 
Clouds are their Chariots. Angels are their Guide : 
Who would not here for Him all hazards run, 
That thus provides for His when this world's done." 

Now you must note that the City stood upon a mighty hill, but the 
Pilgrims went up that hill with ease, because they had these two men 
to lead them up by the arms ; also, they had left their mortal gar- 
ments behind them in the river, for though they went in with them, 
they came out without them. They, there r o re, went up here with 
much agility and speed, though the foundation upon which the City 
was framed was higher than the clouds. They therefore went up 
through the regions of the air, sweetly talking as they went, being 

* Psa. lxxiii. 4. 5- t Isa. xlii. 2. 



TALK OF THE SHINING ONES- 119 

comforted, because they safely got over the river, and had such glo- 
rious companions to attend them. 

The talk they had with the Shining Ones was about the glory of 
the place ; who told them that the beauty and glory of it was inex- 
pressible. There, said they, is the "Mount Zion, the heavenly 
Jerusalem, the innumerable company of angels, and the spirits of 
just men made perfect."* You are going now, said they, to the 
paradise of God, wherein you shall see the tree of life, and eat of the 
never-fading fruits thereof ; and when you come there, you shall 
have white robes given you, and your walk and talk shall be every 
day with the King, even all the days of eternity, t There you shall 
not see again such things as you saw when you were in the lower 
region upon the earth, to wit, sorrow, sickness, affliction and death, 
"for the former things are passed away."t You are now going to 
Abraham, to Isaac, and Jacob, and to the prophets — men that God 
hath taken away from the evil to come, and that are now resting 
upon their beds, each one walking in his righteousness. § The men 
then asked, What must we do in the holy place? To whom it was 
answered, You must there receive the comforts of all your toil, and 
have joy for all your sorrow ; you must reap what you have sown, 
even the fruit of all your prayers, and tears, and sufferings for the 
King by the way. ij In tnat place you must wear crowns of gold, 
and enjoy the perpetual sight and vision of the Holy One, for "there 
you shall see him as he is. "Tf There also you shall serve him conti- 
nually with praise, with shouting, and thanksgiving, whom you de- 
sired to serve in the world, though with much difficulty, because of 
the infirmity of your flesh. There your eyes shall be delighted with 
seeing, and your ears with hearing the pleasant voice of the Mighty 
One. There you shall enjoy your friends again, that are gone thither 
before you ; and there you shall with joy receive, even every one 
that follows into the holy place after you. There also shall you be 
clothed with glory and majesty, and put into an equipage fit to ride 
out with the King of Glory. When He shall come with sound of 
trumpet in the clouds, as upon the wings of the wind, you shall come 
with Him ; and when He shall sit upon the throne of judgment, you 
shall sit by Him ; yea, and when He shall pass sentence upon all the 
workers of iniquity, let them be angels or men, you also shall have a 
voice in that judgment, because they were His and your enemies.** 
Also, when He shall again return to the city, you shall go too, 
with sound of trumpet, and be ever with Him. 

* Heb. xii. 22 — 24. t Rev. ii. 7 ; iii. 4, 5 ; xxii. 5. 

X Isa. Ixv. 16, 17. $ Isa. Ivii. 1, 2. || Gal. vi. 7. If 1 John iii. 2. 

** 1 Thes. iv. 13—17 ; Jude 14, 15 ; Dan. vii. 9, 10 ; 1 Cor. vi. 2, 3. 



120 CHRISTIAN'S VICTORY. 

Now while they were thus drawing towards the Gate, behold a 
company of the heavenly host came out to meet them ; to whom it 
was said, by the other two Shining Ones, These are the men that 
have loved our Lord when they were in the world, and that have left 
all for His holy name ; and He hath sent us to fetch them, and we 
have brought them thus far on their desired journey, that they may 
go in and look their Redeemer in the face with joy. Then the hea- 
venly host gave a great shout, saying, " Blessed are they which are 
called unto the marriage supper of the Lamb."* There came out 
also at this time to meet them, several of the King's trumpeters, 
clothed in white and shining raiment, who, with melodious noises, 
and loud, made even the heavens to echo with their sound. These 
trumpeters saluted Christian and his fellow with ten thousand wel- 
comes from the world ; and this they did with shouting, and sound 
of trumpet. 

This done, they compassed them round on every side ; some went 
before, some behind, and some on the right hand, some on the left 
(as it were to guard them through the upper regions), continually 
sounding as they went, with melodious noise, in notes on high : so 
that the very sight was to them that could behold it, as if heaven 
itself was come down to meet them. Thus, therefore, they walked 
on together ; and as they walked, ever and anon these trumpeters, 
even with joyful sound, would, by mixing their music with looks and 
gestures, still signify to Christian and his brother, how welcome they 
were into their company, and with what gladness they came to meet 
them. And now were these two men, as it were, in heaven, before 
they came at it, being swallowed up with the sight of angels, and 
with hearing of their melodious notes. Here also they had the City 
itself in view, and they thought they heard all the bells therein to 
ring, to welcome them thereto. But above all, the warm and joyful 
thoughts that they had about their own dwelling there, with such 
company, and that for ever and ever. Oh, by what tongue or pen 
can their glorious joy be expressed ! And thus they came up to the 
gate. 

Now, when they were come up to the gate, there was written over 
it in letters of gold, " Blessed are they that do His commandments, 
that they may have right to the tree of life, and may enter in 
through the gates into the city."t 

Then I saw in my dream, that the Shining Men bid them call at 
the gate ; the which, when they did, some looked from above over 
the gate, to wit, Enoch, Moses, and Elijah, &c., to whom it was 
said, These pilgrims are come from the City of Destruction, for the 

* Rev. xix. 9. t Rev. xxii. 14. 



IGNORANCE AND VAIN-HOPE. 121 

love that they bear to the King of this place; and then the pilgrims 
gave in unto them each man his certificate, which they had re- 
ceived in the beginning ; those, therefore, were carried in to the 
King, who, when he had read them, said, Where are the men? To 
whom it was answered, They are standing without the gate. The 
King then commanded to open the gate, "That the righteous 
nation," said he, "which keepeth the truth may enter in."* 

Now I saw in my dream that these two men went in at the gate : 
and lo, as they entered, they were transfigured, and they had rai- 
ment put on that shone like gold. There were also that met them 
with harps and crowns, and gave them to them — the harps to praise 
withal, and the crowns in token of honour. Then I heard in my 
dream that all the bells in the city rang again for joy, and that it was 
said unto them, "Enter ye into the joy of your lord." I 
also heard the men themselves, that they sang with a loud voice, 
saying, "Blessing and honour, and glory, and power, be 
unto him that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the 
Lamb, for ever and ever.'t 

Now, just as the gates were opened to let in the men, I looked in 
after them, and, behold, the City shone like the sun; the streets also 
were paved with gold, and in them walked many men, with crowns 
on their heads, palms in their hands, and golden harps to sing praises 
withal. 

There were also of them that had wings, and they answered one 
another without intermission, saying, "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord."t 
And after that they shut up the gates ; which, when I had seen, I 
wished myself among them. 

Now while I was gazing upon all these things, I turned my head 
to look back, and saw Ignorance come up to the 
river side ; but he soon got over, and that without f™ t r a ?hf ri°er? S 
half that difficulty which the other two men met 
with. For it happened that there was then in that place, one 
Vain-hope, a ferryman, that with his boat helped 
him over ; so he, as the others I saw, did ascend the X fe!?y h h?m over" 
hill, to come up to the gate, only he came alone : 
neither did any man meet him with the least encouragement. When 
he was come up to the gate, he looked up to the writing that was 
above, and then began to knock, supposing that entrance should have 
been quickly administered to him ; but he was asked by the men 
that looked over the top of the gate, Whence came you? and what 
would you have ? He answered, I have eat and drank in the pre- 
sence of the King, and he has taught in our streets. Then they 
* Isa. xxvi. 2. t Rev. v. 13. % Rev. iv. 8. 



122 THE AUTHORS MORAL. 

asked him for his certificate, that they might go in and show it to the 
King; so he fumbled in his bosom for one, and found none. Then 
said they, Have you none ? But the man answered never a word. 
So they told the King, but he would not come down to see him, but 
commanded the two Shining Ones that conducted Christian and 
Hopeful to the City, to go out and take Ignorance, and bind him 
hand and foot, and have him away. Then they took him up, and 
carried him through the air, to the door that I saw in the side of the 
hill, and put him in there. Then I saw that there was a way to hell, 
even from the gates of heaven, as well as from the City of Destruc- 
tion ! So I awoke, and behold it was a dream. 



THE CONCLUSION. 

Now, Reader, I have told my dream to thee ; 
See if thou canst interpret it to me, 
Or to thyself, or neighbour ; but take heed 
Of misinterpreting ; for that, instead 
Of doing good, will but thyself abuse : 
By misinterpreting, evil ensues. 

Take heed, also, that thou be not extreme, 
In playing with the outside of my dream; 
Nor let my figure or similitude 
Put thee into a laughter or a feud. 
Leave this for boys and fools ; but as for thee, 
Do thou the substance of my matter see. 

Put by the curtains, look within my veil, 
Turn up my metaphors, and do not fail, 
There, if thou seekest them, such things to find, 
As will be helpful to an honest mind. 

What of my dross thou findest here, be bold 
To throw away, but yet preserve the gold. 
What if my gold be wrapped up in ore ? — 
None throws away the apple for the core. 
But if thou shalt cast all away as vain, 
I know not but 'twill make me dream again. 



END OF THE FIRST PART. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

FROM 



THE SECOND PART. 



THE AUTHOR'S WAY 

OF 

Sending forth his Second Part of the Pilgrim, 



Go now, my little book, to every place 
Where my first Pilgrim has but shown his face ; 
Call at their door. If any say, Who's there ? 
Then answer thou, Christiana is here. 
If they bid thee come in, then enter thou, 
With all thy boys ; and then, as thou know'st how, 
Tell who they are, also from whence they came ; 
Perhaps they know them by their looks, or name ; 
But if they should not, ask them yet again 
If formerly they did not entertain 
One Christian, a Pilgrim ? If they say 
They did ; and were delighted in his way, 
Then let them know, that those related were 
Unto him ; yea, his wife and children are. 

Tell them that they have left their house and home, 
Are turned pilgrims, seek a world to come ; 
That they have met with hardships in the way, 
That they do meet with troubles night and day. 
That they have trod on serpents, fought with devils, 
Have also overcome a many evils. 
Yea, tell them also of the next, who have, 
Of love to pilgrimage, been stout and brave 



i2 4 THE AUTHOR'S WAY OF 

Defenders of that way, and how they still 
Refuse this world, to do their Father's will. 

Go, tell them also of those dainty things, 
That pilgrimage unto the Pilgrim brings. 
Let them acquainted be, too, how they are 
Beloved of their King, under His care : 
What goodly mansions for them He provides, 
Though they meet with rough winds and swelling tides. 
How brave a calm they will enjoy at last, 
Who to the Lord, and by His ways hold fast. 

Perhaps with heart and hand they will embrace 
Thee, as they did my firstling, and will grace 
Thee, and thy fellows, with good cheer and fare, 
As show well they of pilgrims lovers are. 

OBJECTION I. 

But how, if they will not believe of me 
That I am truly thine ; 'cause some there be 
That counterfeit the pilgrim and his name, 
Seek, by disguise, to seem the very same ; 
And by that means have wrought themselves into 
The lands and houses of I know not who ? 



'Tis true, some have of late, to counterfeit 
My Pilgrim, to their own my title set ; 
Yea, others, half my name and title too 
Have stitched to their book, to make them do ; 
But yet they, by their features, do declare 
Themselves not mine to be, whose e'er they are. 

If such thou meet'st with, then thine only way 
Before them all, is, to say out thy say, 
In thine own native language, which no man 
Now useth, nor with ease dissemble can. 
If, after all, they still of you shall doubt, 
Thinking that you, like gipsies, go about 
In naughty wise, the country to defile, 
Or that you seek good people to beguile 
With things unwarrantable ; send for me. 
And I will testify you Pilgrims be. 
Yea, I will testify that only you 
My Pilgrims are ; and that alone will do. 



SENDING FORTH HIS SECOND PART. 125 

OBJECTION II. 

But yet, perhaps, I may inquire for him, 
Of those that wish him damned, life and limb. 
What shall I do, when I at such a door 
For Pilgrims ask, and they shall rage the more ? 



Fright not thyself, my book, for such bugbears 
Are nothing else but ground for groundless fears. 
My Pilgrim's book has travelled sea and land, 
Yet could I never come to understand 
That it was slighted, or turn'd out of door 
By any kingdom, were they rich or poor. 

In France and Flanders, where men kill each other, 
My Pilgrim is esteem'd a friend, a brother, 

In Holland, too, 'tis said, as I am told, 
My Pilgrim is with some worth more than gold. 

Highlanders and wild Irish can agree 
My Pilgrim should familiar with them be. 

'Tis in New England under such advance, 
Receives there so much loving countenance, 
As to be trimmed, new clothed, and deck'd with gems, 
That it might show its features and its limbs. 
Yet more, so comely doth my Pilgrim walk, 
That of him thousands daily sing and talk. 

If you draw nearer home, it will appear, 
My Pilgrim knows no ground of shame or fear ; 
City and country will him entertain 
With, Welcome, Pilgrim ; yea, they can't refrain 
From smiling, if my Pilgrim be but by, 
Or shows his head in any company. 

Brave gallants do my Pilgrim hug and love, 
Esteem it much, yea, value it above 
Things of a greater bulk : yea, with delight, 
Say, My lark's leg is better than a kite. 

Young ladies, and young gentlewomen too, 
Do no small kindness to my Pilgrim show. 
Their cabinets, their bosoms, and their hearts, 
My Pilgrim has, 'cause he to them imparts 
His pretty riddles in such wholesome strains, 
As yields them profit double to their pains 



126 THE AUTHOR'S WAY OF 

Of reading ; yea, I think I may be bold 
To say, some prize him far above their gold. 

The very children that do walk the street, 
If they do but my holy Pilgrim meet, 
Salute him will ; will wish him well, and say, 
He is the holy stripling of the day. 

They that have never seen him, yet admire 
What they have heard of him, and much desire 
To have his company, and hear him toll 
Those pilgrim stories which he knows so well. 

Yea, some who did not love him at the first, 
But call'd him fool and noddy, say they must, 
Now they have seen and heard him, him commend,. 
And to those whom they love they do him send. 

Wherefore, my Second Part, thou need'st not be 
Afraid to show thy head ; none can hurt thee, 
That wish but well to him that went before, 
'Cause thou com'st after with a second store 
Of things as good, as rich, as profitable, 
For young, for old, for stagg 'ring, and for stable. 

OBJECTION III. 

But some there be that say, He laughs too loud ; 
And some do say, His head is in a cloud. 
Some say, His words and stories are so dark, 
They know not how, by them, to find his mark. 



One may, I think, say, Both his laughs and cries, 
May well be guess' d at by his watery eyes. 
Some things are of that nature, as to make 
One's fancy chuckle, while his heart doth ache. 
When Jacob saw his Rachel with the sheep, 
He did at the same time both kiss and weep. 

Whereas some say, A cloud is in his head, 
That doth but show how wisdom's covered 
With his own mantle, and to stir the mind 
To search well after what it fain would find. 
Things that seem to be hid in words obscure, 
Do but the godly mind the more allure 
To study what those sayings should contain, 
That speak to us in such a cloudy strain. 



SENDING FORTH HIS SECOND PART. 127 

I also know a dark similitude 
Will on the fancy more itself intrude, 
And will stick faster in the heart and head, 
Than things from similes not borrowed. 

Wherefore, my book, let no discouragement 
Hinder thy travels. Behold, thou art sent 
To friends, not foes ; to friends that will give place 
To thee, thy pilgrims, and thy words embrace. 

Besides, what my first Pilgrim left conceal'd, 
Thou, my brave second Pilgrim, hast reveal'd ; 
What Christian left lock'd up, and went his way, 
Sweet Christiana opens with her key. 

OBJECTION IV. 

But some love not the method of your first ; 
Romance, they count it, throw't away as dust, 
If I should meet with such, what should I say? 
Must I slight them as they slight me, or nay ? 

ANSWER. 

My Christiana, if with such thou meet, 
By all means, in all loving-wise, them greet ; 
Render them not reviling for revile; 
But if they frown, I prithee on them smile; 
Perhaps 'tis nature, or some ill report, 
Has made them thus despise, or thus retort. 
Some love no fish, some love no cheese, and some 
Love not their friends, nor their own house or home. 
Some start at pig, slight chicken, love not fowl, 
More than they love a cuckoo, or an owl; 
Leave such, my Christiana, to their choice, 
And seek those who to find thee will rejoice; 
By no means strive, but in humble- wise 
Present thee to them in thy Pilgrim's guise. 

Go, then, my little book, and show to all 
That entertain, and bid thee welcome shall, 
What thou shalt keep close shut up from the rest, 
And wish what thou shalt show them may be blest 
To them for good, may make them choose to be 
Pilgrims better by far than thee and me. 

Go, then, I say, tell all men who thou art; 
Say, I am Christiana, and my part 



128 THE AUTHOR'S WAY OF 

Is now, with my four sons, to tell you what 
It is for men to take a Pilgrim's lot. 

Go also, tell them who and what they be, 
That now do go on pilgrimage with thee; 
Say, Here's my neighbour, Mercy, she is one 
That has long time with me a Pilgrim gone. 
Come, see her in her virgin face, and learn 
'Twixt idle ones and Pilgrims to discern. 
Yea, let young damsels learn of her to prize 
The world which is to come, in any wise. 
When little tripping maidens follow God, 
And leave old doting sinners to his rod; 
'Tis like those days wherein the young ones cried, 
Hosanna ! to whom old ones did deride. 

Next, tell them of old Honest, whom you found 
With his white hairs, treading the Pilgrim's ground. 
Yea, tell them how plain-hearted this man was, 
How after his good Lord he bare his cross; 
Perhaps with some grey head this may prevail 
With Christ to fall in love, and sin bewail. 

Tell them also, how Master Fearing went 
On pilgrimage, and how the time he spent 
In solitariness, with fears and cries; 
And how, at last, he won the joyful prize. 
He was a good man, though much down in spirit, 
He is a good man, and doth life inherit. 

Tell them of Master Feeble-mind also, 
Who, not before, but still behind would go. 
Show them also, Jiow he had like been slain, 
And how one Great-heart did his life regain. 
This man was true of heart, though weak in grace, 
One might true godliness read in his face. 

Then tell them of Master Ready-to-halt, 
A man with crutches, but much without fault; 
Tell them how Master Feeble-mind and he 
Did love, and in opinions much agree. 
And let all know, though weakness was their chance, 
Yet sometimes one could sing, the other dance. 

Forget not Master Valiant-for-the-truth, 
That man of courage, though a very youth. 
Tell every one Ins spirit was so stout, 
No man could ever make him face about; 



SENDING FORTH HIS SECOND PART. 129 

And how Great-heart and he could not forbear, 
To put down Doubting Castle, slay Despair. 

Overlook not Master Despondency, 
Nor Much-afraid, his daughter, though they lie 
Under such mantles, as may make them look 
(With some) as if their God had them forsook. 
They softly went, but sure, and at the end 
Found that the Lord of Pilgrims was their friend. 
When thou hast told the world of all these things, 
Then turn about, my book, and touch these strings. 
Which, if but touched, will such music make, 
They'll make a cripple dance, a giant quake. 

These riddles that lie couch'd within thy breast, 
Freely propound, expound; and for the rest 
Of thy mysterious lines, let them remain 
For those whose nimble fancies shall them gain. 

Now may this little book a blessing be 
To those who love this little book and me, 
And may its buyer have no cause to say, 
His money is but lost or thrown away. 
Yea, may this Second Pilgrim yield that fruit, 
As may with each good Pilgrim's fancy suit; 
And may it persuade some that go astray, 
To turn their feet and heart to the right way, 
Is the hearty prayer 

Of the Author, 

John Bunyan. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS ; 

IN THE SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM. 

THE SECOND PABT. 

Written after Bunyaiis Release from Jail. 

Courteous Companions, 

QOME time since, to tell you my dream that I had of Christian 
JO the Pilgrim, and of his dangerous journey towards the Celestial 
Country, was pleasant to me, and profitable to you. I told you then, 
also, what I saw concerning his wife and children, and how unwill- 
ing tkey were to go with him on pilgrimage, insomuch that he was 
forced to go on his progress without them; for he durst not run the 
danger of that destruction which he feared would come by staying 
with them in the City of Destruction. Wherefore, as I then showed 
you, he left them and departed. 

Now it hath so happened, through the multiplicity of business, 
that I have been much hindered and kept back from my wonted 
travels into those parts [from] whence he went, and so could not, 
till now, obtain an opportunity to make further inquiry after whom 
he left behind, that I might give you an account of them. But^ 
having had some concerns that way of late, J went down again' 
thitherward. Now, having taken up my lodgings in a wood, about 
a mile off the place, as I slept I dreamed again. 

And as I was in my dream, behold, an aged gentleman came by 
where I lay ; and because he was to go some part of the way that I 
was travelling, methought I got up and went with him. So as we 
walked, and as travellers usually do, I was as if we fell into dis- 
course, and our talk happened to be about Christian and his travels; 
for thus I began with the old man : — 

K 2 



i 3 2 BUNYAN TALKS WITH SAGACITY. 

Sir, said I, what town is that, there below, that lieth on the left 
hand of our way ? 

Then said Mr. Sagacity (for that was his name), It is the City of 
Destruction, a populous place, but possessed with a very ill-condi- 
tioned and idle sort of people. 

I thought that was that city, quoth I; I went once myself through 
that town, and therefore, know that this report you give of it is 
true. 

Sag. Too true; I wish I could speak truth in speaking better of 
them that dwell therein. 

Well, Sir, quoth I, then I perceive you to be a well-meaning man; 
and so one that takes pleasure to hear and tell of that which is good. 
Pray did you never hear what happened to a man some time ago in 
this town, whose name was Christian, that went on pilgrimage up 
towards the higher regions ? 

Sag. Hear of him ! Ay ; and I also heard of the molestations, 

troubles, wars, captivities, cries, groans, frights, and fears that he 

met with and had in his journey; besides, I must tell you, all our 

country rings of him. There are out few houses that have heard of 

him and his doings, but have sought after and got 

Christians are the records of his pilgrimage; yea, I think I may say 
JSengone 1 ; ° f tnat ms hazardous journey has got a many well- 
though called wishers to his ways; for though, when he was here, 
arehere! 16 they ^ e was *°°* * n evei T man's mouth, yet, now he is 
gone, he is highly commended of all. For, it is said, 
he lives bravely where he is; yea, many of them that are resolved 
never to run his hazards, yet have their mouths water at his gains. 

They may, quoth I, well think, if they think anything that is true, 
that he liveth well where he is; for he now lives at and in the Foun- 
tain of Life, and has what he has without labour and sorrow, for 
there is no grief mixed therewith. But pray what talk have the 
people about him ? 

Sag. Talk! the people talk strangely about him; some say that 
he now walks in white,* that he has a chain of gold about his neck; 
that he has a crown of gold, beset with pearls, upon his head. 
Others say that the Shining Ones, that sometimes showed themselves 
to him in his journey, are become his companions, and that he is as 
familiar with them in the place where he is, as here one neighbour 
is with another. Besides, it is confidently affirmed, concerning him, 
that the King of the place where he is has bestowed upon him 
already a very rich and pleasant dwelling at court, f and that he 
every day eateth.t and drinketh, and walketh, and talketh with him* 

• Rev. iii. 4; vi. ir. t Zech. iii. 7. t Luke xiv. 15. 



CHRISTIANAS REGRETS. 133 

and receiveth of the smiles and favours of him that is Judge of all 
there. Moreover, it is expected of some, that his Prince, the Lord 
of that country, will shortly come into these parts, and will know the 
reason, if they can give any, why his neighbours set so little by him, 
and had him so much in derision, when they perceived that he would 
be a pilgrim.* For, they say, that now he is so in the affections of 
his Prince, and that his Sovereign is so much concerned with the 
indignities that were cast upon Christian, when he became a pilgrim, 
that he will look upon all as if done unto himself ; and no marvel, 
for it was for the love that he had to his Prince that he ventured as 
he did.t 

I dare say, quoth I, I am glad on it; I am glad for the poor man's 
sake, fo. that he now has rest from his labour,! and for that he now 
reapeth the benefit of his tears with joy,§ and for that he has got 
beyond the gunshot of his enemies, and is out of the reach of them 
that hate him. I also am glad, for that a rumour of these things 
is noised abroad in this country; who can tell but that it may work 
some good effect on some that are left behind ? But pray, Sir, while 
it is fresh in my mind, do you hear anything of his wife and children ? 
Poor hearts ! I wonder in my mind what they do. 

Sag. Who ! Christiana and her sons? They are like to do as 
well as did Christian himself; for though they all played the fool 
■aX the first, and would by no means be persuaded by either the 
tears or entreaties of Christian, yet second thoughts have wrought 
wonderfully with them; so they have packed up, and are also gone 
after him. 

Better and better, quoth I. But what ! wife and children, and all? 

Sag. It is true; I can give you an account of the matter, for I 
was upon the spot at the instant, and was thoroughly acquainted 
with the whole affair. 

Then, said I, a man, it seems, may report it for a truth? 

Sag. You need not fear to affirm it; I mean that they are all gone 
on pilgrimage, both the good woman and her four boys. And being 
(we are, as I perceive) going some considerable way together, I will 
give you an account of the whole of the matter. 

This Christiana (for that was her name from the day that she, 
with her children, betook themselves to a pilgrim's life), after her 
husband was gone over the river, and she could hear of him no more, 
her thoughts began to work in her mind. First, for that she had lost 
her husband, and for that the loving bond of that relation was utterly 
broken betwixt them. For you know, said he to me, nature can do 
no less but entertain the living with many a heavy cogitation in the 

* Jude 14, 15. t I-uke x. 16. % Rev. xiv. 13. $ Psa. cxxvi 5, 6. 



i 3 4 CHRISTIANA'S DREAM. 

remembrance of the loss of loving relations. This, therefore, of her 
husband did cost her many a tear. But this was not all ; for Chris- 
tiana did also begin to consider with herself, whether her unbecoming 
behaviour towards her husband was not one cause that she saw him 
no more; and that in such sort he was taken away from her. And 
upon this, came into her mind, by swarms, all her unkind, unnatural, 
and ungodly carriages to her dear friend ; which also clogged her 
conscience, and did load her with guilt. She was, moreover, much 
broken with calling to remembrance the restless groans, brinish tears, 
and self-bemoanings of her husband, and how she did harden her 
heart against all his entreaties, and loving persuasions, of her and 
her sons, to go with him; yea, there was not anything that Christian 
either said to her or did before her all the while that his burden did 
hang on his back, but it returned upon her like a flash of lightning, 
and rent the caul of her heart in sunder. Specially that bitter out- 
cry of his, "What shall I do to be saved ?" did ring in her ears 
most dolefully. 

Then said she to her children, Sons, we are all undone. I have 
sinned away your father, and he is gone ; he would have had us with 
him, but I would not go myself. I also have hindered you of life. 
With that the boys fell all into tears, and cried out to go after their 
father. O ! said Christiana, that it had been but our lot to go 
with him, then had it fared well with us, beyond what it is like to do 
now ; for though I formerly foolishly imagined, concerning the 
troubles of your father, that they proceeded of a foolish fancy that 
he had, or for that he was overrun with melancholy humours ; yet 
now it will not out of my mind, but that they sprang from another 
cause, to wit, for that the Light of light was given him,* by the help 
of which, as I perceived, he has escaped the snares of death. Then 
they all wept again, and cried out, " O woe worth the day !" 

The next night Christiana had a dream ; and, behold, she saw as 
if a broad parchment was opened before her, in which were recorded 
the sum of her ways.t and th times, as she thought, looked very 
black upon her. Then she cried out aloud in her sleep, ' ' Lord, 
have mercy upon me a sinner !" and the little children heard her. 

After this she thought she saw two very ill-favoured ones standing 
by her bedside, and saying, What shall we do with this woman? for 
she cries out for mercy waking and sleeping ; if she be suffered to go 
on as she begins, we shall lose her as we have lost her husband. 
Wherefore, we must, by one way or other, seek to take her off from 
the thoughts of what shall be hereafter, else all the world cannot 
help it but she will become a pilgrim. 

* James i. 23—25. t Luke xviii. 13. 



THE LETTER. 135 

Now when she awoke in a great sweat, also a trembling was upon 
her ; but after awhile she fell to sleeping again. And then she 
thought she saw Christian her husband in a place of bliss, among 
many immortals, with a harp in his hand, standing and playing 
upon it before One that sat on a throne, with a rainbow about his 
head. She saw also as if he bowed his head, with his face to the 
paved work that was under the Prince's feet, saying, I heartily thank 
my Lord and King, for bringing of me into tliis place. Then 
shouted a company of them that stood round about, and harped 
with their harps ; but no man living could tell what they said, but 
Christian and his companions. 

Next morning, when she was up, had prayed to God, and talked 
with her children awhile, one knocked hard at the door, to whom 
she spake out, saying, If thou comest in God's name, come in. So 
he said, Amen, and opened the door, and saluted her with " Peace 
be to this house." The which, when he had done, he said, Christiana, 
knowest thou wherefore I am come? Then she 
blushed and trembled, also her heart began to wax convictions se. 

. , , , . , a , conned with fresh 

warm with desires to know whence he came, and tidings of Cods 
what was his errand to her. So he said unto her, My readiness to par- 
name is Secret ; I dwell with those that are high. 
It is talked of, where I dwell, as if thou hadst a desire to go thither ; 
also, there is a report, that thou art aware of the evil thou hast for- 
merly done to thy husband, in hardening of thy heart against his 
way, and in keeping of these thy babes in their ignorance. Chris- 
tiana, the Merciful One has sent me to tell thee, that He is a God 
ready to forgive, and (hat He taketh delight to multiply to pardon 
offences. He also would have thee know, that He inviteth thee 
to come into His presence, to His table, and that He will feed 
thee with the fat of His house, and with the heritage of Jacob thy 
father. 

There is Christian thy husband (that was), with legions more, his 
companions, ever beholding that face that doth minister life to be- 
holders; and they will all be glad when they shall hear the sound of 
thy feet step over thy Father's threshold. 

Christiana at this was greatly abashed in herself, and bowing her 
head to the ground, this Visitor proceeded, and said, Christiana, 
here is also a letter for thee, which I have brought from thy hus- 
band's King. So she took it, and opened it, but it smelt after the 
manner of the best perfume,* also it was written in letters of gold. 
The contents of the letter were these, That the King would have her 
do as did Christian her husband; for that was the way to come to 

* Car.t. i. 3. 



136 CHRIS TIA NA 'S RESOL VE. 

his city, and to dwell in his presence with joy for ever. At this the 
good woman was quite overcome; so she cried out to her visitor, Sir, 
will you carry me and my children with you, that we also may go 
and worship this King? 

Then said the visitor, Christiana, the bitter is before the sweet. 
Thou must through troubles, as did he that went before thee, enter 
this Celestial City. Wherefore I advise thee to do as did Christian 
thy husband. Go to the wicket -gate yonder, over the plain, for that 
stands in the head of the way up which thou must go, and I wish 
thee all good speed. Also I advise that thou put this letter in thy 
bosom; that thou read therein to thyself, and to thy children, until 
you have got it by rote of heart, for it is one of thy songs that thou 
must sing while thou art in this house of thy pilgrimage ;* also this 
thou must deliver in at the further gate. 

Now 1 saw in my dream, that this old gentleman, as he told me 
tfhis story, did himself seem to be greatly affected therewith. He, 
moreover, proceeded, and said, So Christiana called her sons together, 
and began thus to address herself unto them : My sons, I have, as you 
may perceive, been of late under much exercise in my soul, about 
the death of your father; not for that I doubt at all of his hap- 
piness, for I am satisfied now that he is well. I have been also 
amich affected with the thoughts of mine own state and yours, which 
I verily believe is by nature miserable. My carriage, also, to your 
father in his distress, is a great load to my conscience; for I hardened 
both my own heart and yours against him, and refused to go with 
him on pilgrimage. 

The thoughts of these things would now kill me outright, but that 
for a dream which I had last night, and but for the encouragement 
that this stranger has given me this morning. Come, my children, let 
us pack up and begone to the gate that leads to the Celestial 
Country, that we may see your father, and be with him and his com- 
panions in peace, according to the laws of that land. 

Then did her children burst out into tears for joy, that the heart 
of their mother was so inclined. So their visitor bade them farewell 
and they began to prepare to set out for their journey. 

But while they were thus about to be gone, two of the women, 
that were Christiana's neighbours, came up to her house, and knocked 
at her door. To whom she said as before, If you come in God's 
name, come in. At this the women were stunned; for this kind of 
language they used not to hear, or to perceive to drop from the lips 
of Christiana. Yet they came in : but, behold, they found the good 
woman a-preparing to be gone from her house. 

♦ Psa. cxix. 54. 




CHRISTIANA AND HER CHILDREN. P. I35. 




, 'T^/J^/^^r- 



TIMOROUS AND MERCY WITH CHRISTIANA P, I37. 



MRS. TIMOROUS VISITS HER. 137 

So they began and said, Neighbour, pray what is your meaning 
by this? 

Christiana answered and said to the eldest of them, whose name 
was Mrs. Timorous, I am preparing for a journey. (This Timorous 
W T as daughter to him that met Christian upon the Hill Difficulty, 
and would have had him go back for fear of the lions.) 

Tim. For what journey, I pray you ? 

Chris. Even to go after my good husband. And with that she 
fell a-weeping. 

Tim. I hope not so, good neighbour; pray, for your poor chil- 
dren's sakes, do not so unwomanly cast away yourself. 

Chris. Nay, my children shall go with me, not one of them is 
willing to stay behind. 

Tim. I wonder, in my very heart, what, or who has brought you 
into this mind. 

Chris. Oh ! neighbour, knew you but as much as I do, I doubt 
not but that you would go with me. 

Tim. Prithee, what new knowledge hast thou got, that so worketh 
off thy mind from thy friends, and that tempteth thee to go nobody 
knows where ? 

Chris. Then Christiana replied, I have been sorely afflicted since 
my husband's departure from me; but especially since he went over 
the river. But that which troubleth me most, is my churlish car- 
riages to him, when he was under his distress. Besides, I am now 
as he was then; nothing will serve me but going on pilgrimage. I 
was a-dreaming last night that I saw him. Oh, that my soul w r as with 
him ! He dwelleth in the presence of the King of the country ; he 
sits and eats with him at his table ; he is become a companion of 
immortals,* and has a house now given him to dwell in, to which the 
best palaces on earth, if compared, seem to me but as a dunghill. The 
Prince of the place has also sent for me, with promise of entertainment 
if I shall come to him ; his messenger was here even now, and has 
brought me a letter, which invites me to come. And with that she 
plucked out her letter and read it, and said to them, What now will 
ye say to this? 

Tim. Oh, the madness that has possessed thee and thy husband, to 
run yourselves upon such difficulties ! You have heard, I am sure, 
what your husband did meet with, even, in a manner, at the first 
step lie took on his way, as our neighbour Obstinate can yet testify, 
for he went along with him ; yea, and Pliable too, until they, like 
wise men, were afraid to go any further. We also heard, over and 
above, how lie met with the lions, Apollyon, the Shadow of Death, 

1 Cor. v 1—4. 



i53 MERCY HESITA TES. 

and many other things. Nor is the danger that he met with at 
Vanity Fair to be forgotten by thee ; for if he, though a man, was so 
hard put to it, what canst thou, being but a poor woman, do ? Con- 
sider, also, that these four sweet babes are thy children, thy flesh and 
thy bones. Wherefore, though thou shouldst be so rash as to cast 
away thyself ; yet, .for the sake of the fruit of thy body, keep thou at 
home. 

But Christiana said unto her, Tempt me not, my neighbour. I 
have now a price put into my hand to get gain, and I should be a 
fool of the greatest size, if I should have no heart to strike in with 
the opportunity. And for that you tell me of all these troubles that 
I am like to meet with in the way, they are so far off from being to 
me a discouragement, that they show I am in the right. "The 
bitter must come before the sweet," and that also will make the sweet 
the sweeter. Wherefore, since you came not to my house in God's 
name, as I said, I pray you to be gone, and not disquiet me further. 

Then Timorous also reviled her, and said to her fellow, Come, 
neighbour Mercy, let us leave her in her own hands, since she scorns 
our counsel and company. But Mercy was at a stand, and could 
not so readily comply with her neighbour, and that for a twofold 
reason. First, her bowels yearned over Christiana. So she said 
within herself, If my neighbour will needs be gone, I will go a little 
way with her and help her. Secondly, her bowels yearned over her 
own soul, for what Christiana had said had taken some hold upon 
her mind. Wherefore she said within herself again, I will yet have 
more talk with this Christiana, and if I find truth and life in what 
she shall say, myself wkh my heart shall also go with her. Where- 
fore Mercy began thus to reply to her neighbour Timorous. 

MERCY. Neighbour, I did, indeed, come with you to see Chris- 
tiana this morning; and since she is, as you see, a-taking of her last 
farewell of her country, I think to walk, this sunshine morning, a 
little way with her, to help her on the way. But she told her not of 
the second reason, but kept that to herself. 

Tim. Well, I see you have a mind to go a-fooling too, but take 
heed in time and be wise. While we are out of danger, we are out ; 
but when we are in, we are in. So Mrs. Timorous returned to her 
house, and Christiana betook herself to her journey. But when Ti- 
morous was got home to her house, she sends for some of her neigh- 
bours, to wit, Mrs. Bat's-eyes, Mrs. Inconsiderate, Mrs. Light-mind, 
and Mrs. Know-nothing. So when they were come to her house, 
she falls to telling of the story of Christiana, and of her intended 
journey. And thus she began her tale. 

TlM. Neighbours, having had little to do this morning, I went to 



CHRISTIANA DEPARTS. 139 

give Christiana a visit; and when I came at the door, I knocked, as 
you know it is our.custom. And she answered, If you come in God's 
name, come in. So in I went, thinking all was well. But when I 
came in, I found her preparing herself to depart the town, she and 
also her children. So I asked her what was her meaning by that. 
And she told me, in short, that she was now of a mired to go on pil- 
grimage, as did her husband. She told me also a dream that she 
had, and how the King of the country where her husband was, had 
sent her an inviting letter to come thither. 

Then said Mrs. Know-nothing, And what ! do you think she will 
go? 

Tim. Ay, go she will, whatever come on't ; and methinks I know 
it by this ; for that which was my great argument to persuade her to 
stay at home (to wit, the troubles she was like to meet with in the 
way) is one great argument with her to put her forward on her 
journey. For she told me in so many words, "The bitter goes be- 
fore the sweet. Yea, and forasmuch as it so doth, it makes the 
sweet the sweeter." 

Mrs. Bats-eyes. Oh, this blind and foolish woman ! said she ; 
will she not take warning by her husband's afflictions? For my part, 
I see, if he were here again, he would rest him content in a whole 
skin, and never run so many hazards for nothing. 

Mrs. Inconsiderate also replied, saying, Away with such fan- 
tastical fools from the town ! A good riddance, for my part, I say, 
of her. Should she stay where she dwells, and retain this her mind, 
who could live quietly by her? for she will either be dumpish or un- 
neighbourly, or talk of such matters as no wise body can abide ; 
wherefore, for my part, I shall never be sorry for her departure. Let 
her go, and let better come in her room. It was never a good world 
since these whimsical fools dwelt in it. 

Then Mrs. Light-mind added as followeth : — Come, put this 
kind of talk away. I was yesterday at Madame Wanton's, where 
we were as merry as the maids. For who do you think should be 
there, but I and Mrs. Love- the- Flesh, and three or four more, with 
Mr. Lechery, Mrs. Filth, and some others. So there we had music 
and dancing, and what else was meet to fill up the pleasure. And, 
I dare say, my lady herself is an admirably well-bred gentlewoman, 
and Mr Lechery is as pretty a fellow. 

By this time, Christiana was got on her way, and Mercy went 
along with her. So as they went, her children being there also, 
Christiana began to discourse. And, Mercy, said Christiana, I take 
this as an unexpected favour, that thou shouldst set foot out of doors 
with me, to aecompany me a little in my way. 



140 MERCY'S SORRO W. 

Mercy. Then said young Mercy (for she was but young), If I 
thought it would be to purpose to go with you, I would never go 
near the town any more. 

Chris. Well, Mercy, said Christiana, cast in thy lot with me ; I 
well know what will be the end of our pilgrimage. My husband is 
where he would not but be for all the gold in the Spanish mines. 
Nor shalt thou be rejected, though thou goest but upon my invita- 
tion. The King who hath sent for me and my children is one that 
delighteth in mercy. Besides, if thou wilt, I will hire thee, and thou 
shalt go along with me as my servant ; yet we will have all things in 
common betwixt thee and me ; only, go along with me. 

Mercy. But how shall I be ascertained that I also shall be enter- 
tained? Had I this hope but from one that can tell, I would make 
no stick at all, but would go, being helped by him that can help, 
though the way was never so tedious. 

Chris. Well, loving Mercy, I will tell thee what thou shalt do. 
Go with me to the wicket-gate, and there I will further inquire for 
thee ; and if there thou shalt not meet with encouragement, I will 
be content that thou shalt return to thy place. I also will pay thee 
for thy kindness which thou showest to me and my children, in thy 
accompanying us in our way as thou dost. 

Mercy. Then will I go thither, and will take what shall follow ; 
and the Lord grant that my lot may there fall, even as the King of 
Heaven shall have his heart upon me. 

Christiana then was glad at her heart, not only that she had a 
companion, but also for that she had prevailed with this poor maid 
to fall in love with her own salvation. So they went on together, 
and Mercy began to weep. Then said Christiana, Wherefore weepeth 
my sister so ? 

Mercy. Alas ! said she, who can but lament, that shall but rightly 
consider, what a state and condition my poor relations are in that 
yet remain in our sinful town ? and that which makes my grief the 
more heavy is, because they have no instructor, nor any to tell them 
what is to come. 

Chris. Bowels becometh pilgrims ; and thou dost for thy friends 
as my good Christian did for me when he left me ; he mourned for 
that I would not heed nor regard him ; but his Lord and ours did 
gather up his tears, and put them into his bottle; and now both I 
and thou, and these my sweet babes, are reaping the fruit and be- 
nefit of them. I hope, Mercy, these tears of thine will not be lost ; 
for the truth hath said, that "They that sow in tears shall reap in 
joy," in singing. And " he that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing 



THE SLOUGH OF DESPOND. 141 

precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing 
his sheaves with him."* 
Then said .Mercy — 

" Let the Most Blessed be my guide, 
If 't be His blessed will ; 
Unto His gate, into His fold 
Up to His holy hill. 

" And let Him never suffer me 
To swerve or turn aside 
From His free grace, and holy ways, 
Whate'er shall me betide. 

" And let Him gather them of mine, 
That I have left behind ; 
Lord, make them pray they may be thine, 
With all their heart and mind." 

Now my old friend proceeded and said: But when Christiana 
came up to the Slough of Despond, she began to be at a stand ; for, 
said she, this is the place in which my dear husband had like to have 
been smothered with mud. She perceived, also, that notwithstand- 
ing the command of the King to make this place for pilgrims good, 
yet it was rather worse than formerly. So I asked if that was true. 
Yes, said the old gentleman, too true ; for that many there be that 
pretend to be the King's labourers, and that say they are for mend- 
ing the King's highway, that bring dirt and dung instead of stones, 
and so mar instead of mending. Here Christiana, therefore, with 
her boys, did make a stand ; but, said Mercy, Come, let us venture, 
only let us be wary. Then they looked well to the steps, and made 
a shift to get staggeringly over. 

Yet Christiana had like to have been in, and that not once nor 
twice. Now they had no sooner got over, but they thought they 
heard words that said unto them, " Blessed is she that believed : for 
there shall be a performance of those things which were told her 
from the Lord."t 

Then they went on again ; and said Mercy to Christiana, Had I 
as good ground to hope for a loving reception at the wicket-gate as 
you, I think no Slough of Despond would discourage me. 

Well, said the other, you know your sore, and I know mine ; and, 
good friend, we shall all have enough evil before we come at our 
journey's end. 

For can it be imagined, that the people that design to attain such 
excellent glories as we do, and that are so envied that happiness as 
we are; but that we shall meet with what fears and scares, with what 
troubles and afflictions they can possibly assault us with, that hate us ? 

* Psa. cxxvi. 5, 6. t Luke i. 45. 



i 4 2 PR A YER. 

And now Mr. Sagacity left me to dream out my dream by myself. 

Wherefore, methought I saw Christiana and Mercy, and the boys, 

go all of them, up to the gate ; to which, when they 

made y with°co d nK were come the y betook themselves to a short debate 

deration and fear, about how they must manage their calling at the gate, 

Sdhobef ' n faith and what snould be said to him that did °P en to 
them. So it was concluded, since Christiana was the 

eldest, that she should knock for entrance, and that she should speak 

to him that did open, for the rest. So Christiana began to knock ; 

and as her poor husband did, she knocked, and knocked again. But, 

instead of any that answered, they all thought that 

The do?, the t } ie y heard as if a clog came barking upon them : a 

devil, an enemy . J , . & A , . . fe J ' 

tc prayer. dog, and a great one too, and this made the women 

and children afraid : nor durst they, for a while, 
to knock any more, for fear the mastiff should fly upon them. Now, 
therefore, they were greatly tumbled up and down in their minds, 
and knew not what to do ; knock they durst not, for fear of the dog; 
go back they durst not, for fear the Keeper of that gate should espy 
them as they so went, and should be offended with them ; at last 
they thought of knocking again, and knocked more vehemently than 
they did at the first. Then said the Keeper of the gate, Who is 
there? So the dog left off to bark, and he opened unto them.* 

Then Christiana made low obeisance, and said, Let not our Lord 
be offended with his handmaidens, for that we have knocked at his 
princely gate. Then said the Keeper, Whence come ye, and what 
is that you would have? 

Christiana answered, We are come from whence Christian did 
come, and upon the same errand as he ; to wit, to be, if it shall 
please you, graciously admitted by this gate into the way that leads 
to the Celestial City. And 1 answer, my Lord, in the next place, 
that I am Christiana, once the wife of Christian, that now is gotten 
above. 

With that the Keeper of the gate did man-el, saying, What, is she 
become now a pilgrim, that, but a while ago, abhorred that life? 
Then she bowed her head, and said, Yes, and so are these my sweet 
babes also. 

Then he took her by the hand, and let her in, and said also, 
"Suffer the little children to come unto me ;" and with that he shut 
up the gate. This done, he called to a trumpeter that was above, 
over the gate, to entertain Christiana with snouting and sound of 
trumpet for j >y. So he obeyed, and sounded, and filled the air with 
his melodious notes, t 

• Matt. vii. 7 ; James iv ~. t I.uke xv. 



INTERCESSION. 143 

Now, all this while poor Mercy did stand without, trembling and 
crying, for fear that she was rejected. But when Christiana had 
gotten admittance for herself and her boys, then she began to make 
intercession for Mercy. 

Chris. And she said, My Lord, I have a companion of mine that 
stands yet without, that is come hither upon the same account as my- 
self ; one that is much dejected in her mind, for that she comes, as 
she thinks, without sending for ; whereas I was sent to by my hus- 
band's King to come. 

Now, Mercy began to be very impatient, for each minute was as 
long to her as an hour ; wherefore she prevented Christiana from a 
fuller interceding for her, by knocking at the gate 
herself. And she knocked 'then so loud, that she Thed^smake 
made Christiana to start. Then said the Keeper of the ferventer? S ° U 
the gate, Who is there ? and said Christiana, It is my 
friend. 

So he opened the gate, and looked out, but Mercy was fallen 
down without, in a swoon, for she fainted, and was afraid that no 
gate would be opened to her. 

Then he took her by the hand, and said, Damsel, I bid thee arise. 

Oh, Sir, said she, I am faint; there is scarce life left in me. But 
he answered, That one once said, "When my soul fainted within 
me, I remembered the Lord; and my prayer came in unto thee, into 
thine holy temple."* Fear not, but stand upon thy feet, and tell me 
wherefore thou art come. 

Mercy. I am come for that unto which I was never invited, as 
my friend Christiana was. Hers was from the King, and mine was 
but from her. Wherefore I fear I presume. 

Keep. Did she desire thee to come with her to this place? 

Mercy. Yes; and, as my Lord sees, I am come. And, if there is 
any grace or forgiveness of sins to spare, I beseech that I, thy poor 
handmaid, may be partaker thereof. 

Then he took her again by the hand, and led her gently in, and 
said, I pray for all them that believe on me, by what means soever 
they come unto me. Then said lie to those that stood by, Fetch 
something, and give it to Mercy to smell on, thereby to stay her 
fainting. So they fetched her a bundle of myrrh; and. a while after, 
she was revived. 

And now was Christiana and her boys, and Mercy, received of the 
Lord at the head of the way, and spoke kindly unto by him. Then 
said they yet further unto him, We are sorry for our sins, and beg of 
our Lord his pardon, and further information what we must do. 
* Jonah ii. 7. 



144 PRAYER PLEASING TO GOD. 

I grant pardon, said he, by word and deed; by word, in the pro- 
mise of forgiveness; by deed, in the way I obtained it. Take the first 
from my lips with a kiss;* and the other as it shall be revealed. t 

Now, I saw in my dream, that he spake many good words unto 

them, whereby they were greatly gladded. He also had them up to 

the top of the gate, and showed them by what deed 

C seeri afar U off ed the y WCre saved : and toId them withal, That that 
sight they would have again, as they went along in 
the way, to their comfort. 

So he left them awhile in a summer parlour below, where they 
entered into talk by themselves; and thus Christiana began: O Lord! 
how glad am I that we are got in hither. 

Mercy. So you well may; but I of all have cause to leap for joy. 

Chris. I thought one time, as I stood at the gate (because I 
had knocked, and none did answer) that all our labour had been 
lost, especially when that ugly cur made such a heavy barking 
against us. 

Mercy. But my worse fear was after I saw that you was taken 
into his favour, and that I was left behind. Now, thought I, it is 
fulfilled which is written, " Two women shall be grinding together, 
the one shall be taken and the other left. "J I had much ado to for- 
bear crying out, Undone! undone! 

And afraid I was to knock any more; but when I looked up to 
what was w r ritten over the gate,§ I took courage. I also thought that 
I must either knock again, or die; so I knocked, but. I cannot tell 
how, for my spirit now struggled betwixt life and death. 

Chris. Can you not tell how you knocked? I am sure your 
knocks were so earnest, that the very sound of them made me start; 
I thought I never heard such knocking in all my life; I thought you 
would have come in by violent hands, or have taken the kingdom by 
storm. : : 

Mercy. Alas! to be in my case, who that so was could but have 
done so? You saw that the door was shut upon me, and that there 
was a most cruel dog thereabout. Who, I say, that was so faint- 
hearted as I, that would not have knocked with all their might? 
But pray what said my Lord to my rudeness? Was he not angry 
with me? 

Chris. When he heard your lumbering noise, he gave a wonderful 
innocent smile; 1 believe what you did pleased him well enough, for 
he showed no sign to the contrary. But I marvel in my heart why 

* Can. i. 2. t John xx. 20. t Matt. xxiv. 4t. 

Tlit inscription on the gate was, " Knock, and it shall be opened unto yea." 

U Malt. xi. 12. 




THE BOYS PT.UCK THE FRl'IT. P. I46. 



MERCY ASKS ABOUT THE DOG. 145 

he keeps such a dog; had I known that before, I fear I should not 
have had heart enough to have ventured myself in this manner. 
But now we are in, we are in; and I am glad with all my heart. 

Mercy. I will ask, if you please, next time he comes down, why 
he keeps such a filthy cur in his yard; I hope he will not take it 
amiss. 

Ay, do, said the children, and persuade him to The children 
hang him ; for we are afraid he will bite us when we are afraid of the 

1 dog. 

go hence. 

So at last he came down to them again, and Mercy fell to the 
ground on her face before him, and worshipped, and said, Let my 
Lord accept of the sacrifice of praise which I now offer unto him 
with the calves of my lips. 

So he said unto her, " Peace be to thee, stand up." But she con- 
tinued upon her face, and said, ' ' Righteous art thou, O Lord, when 
I plead with thee: yet let me talk with thee of thy judgments."* 
Wherefore dost thou keep so cruel a dog in thy yard, at the sight of 
which such women and children as we are ready to fly from thy gate 
for fear. 

He answered and said, That dog has another owner, he also is 
kept close in another man's ground, only my pilgrims hear his bark- 
ing; he belongs to the castle which you see there at a distance, but 
can come up to the walls of this place. He has frighted many an 
honest pilgrim from worse to better, by the great voice of his roaring. 
Indeed, he that owneth him doth not keep him of any goodwill to 
me or mine, but with intent to keep the pilgrims from coming to me, 
and that they may be afraid to knock at this gate for entrance. 
Sometimes also he has broken out, and has worried some that I 
loved ;j but I take all at present patiently. I also give my pilgrims 
timely help, so they are not delivered up to his power, to do to them 
what his doggish nature would prompt him to. But what ! my pur- 
chased one, I trow, hadst thou known never so much beforehand, 
thou wouldst not have been afraid of a dog. 

The beggars that go from door to door will, rather than they will 
lose a supposed alms, run the hazard of the bawling, barking, and 
biting too, of a dog; and shall a dog— a dog in another man's yard, 
a dog whose barking I turn to the profit of pilgrims—keep any from 
coming to me? I deliver them from the lions, their darling from the 
power of the dog. 

Mercy. Then said Mercv, I confess my igno- Christians when 

t i ii.T 1^1 *' 1 wise enouern, ac- 

rance ; I spake what 1 understood not; I acknow- quiesceinthewis- 

ledge that thou dost all things Well. dom of their Lord. 

* Jer. xii. i. t Job i., ii. 



146 EATING THE FRUIT. 

Chris. Then Christiana began to talk of their journey, and to 
inquire after the way. So he fed them, and washed their feet, 
and set them in the way of his steps, according as he had dealt with 
her husband before. So I saw in my dream, that they walked on 
their way, and had the weather very comfortable to them. 

Then Christiana began to sing, saying, 

" Blessed be the day that I 
A pilgrim for to be ; 
And Mussed also be that man 
That thereto moved me. 

" 'Tis true, 'twas long ere I began 
To seek to live for ever : 
But now I run fast as I can ; 
'Tis better late than never. 

" Our tears to joy, our fears to faith, 
Are turned, as we see, 
That our beginning, as one saith, 

Shows what our end will be." 

Now there was on the other side of the wall that fenced in the way 
up which Christiana and her companions were to go, a garden, and 
that garden belonged to him whose was that balking dog of whom 
mention was made before. And some of the fruit-trees that grew in 
that garden shot their branches over the wall; and being mellow, 
they that found them did gather them up, and oft eat of them to 
their hurt. So Christiana's boys, as boys are apt to do, being pleased 
with the trees, and with the fruit that did hang thereon, did pluck 
them, and began to eat. Their mother did also chide them fur so 
doing, but still the boys went on. 

Well, said she, my sons, you transgress, for that fruit is none of 
ours; but she did not know that they did belong to the enemy; I will 
warrant you, if she had, she would have been ready to die for fear. 
But that passed, and they went on their way. Now, by that they 
were gone about two bow-shots from the place that led them into 
the way, they espied two very ill-favoured ones coming down apace 
10 meet them. With that Christiana and Mercy, her friend, covered 
themselves with their veils, and so kept on their journey; the chil- 
dren also went on before; so that at last they met together. Then 
they that came down to meet them, came just up to the women, as if 
they would embrace them; but Christiana said, Stand back, or go 
peaceably by, as you should. Yet these two, as men that are deaf, 
regarded not Christiana's words, but began to lav hands upon them. 
At that Christiana, waxing very wroth, spurned at them with her 
feet. Mercy al.->o as well as she could, did what she could to shift 
them. Christiana again said to them, Stand back, and begone; for 



CHRISTIANA RESCUED. 147 

we have no money to lose, being pilgrims, as you see, and such, too, 
as live upon the charity of our friends. 

Ill-favoured. Then said one of the two of the men, We make 
no assault upon you for money, but are come out to tell you, that if 
you will but grant one small request, which we shall ask, we will 
make women of you for ever. 

Chris. Now Christiana, imagining what they should mean, made 
answer again, We will neither hear, nor regard, nor yield to what 
you shall ask. We are in haste, and cannot stay; our business is a 
business of life and death. So, again, she and her companions 
made a fresh essay to go past them ; but they letted them in their way. 

Ill-fa v. And they said, We intend no hurt to your lives; it is an- 
other thing we would have. 

Chris. Ah, quoth Christiana, you would have us body and soul, 
for I know it is for that you are come: but we will die rather upon 
the spot, than suffer ourselves to be brought into such snares as shall 
hazard our well-being hereafter. And with that they both shrieked 
out, and cried Murder ! murder ! and so put themselves under those 
laws that are provided for the protection of women.* But the men 
still made their approach upon them, with design to prevail against 
them. They, therefore, cried out again. 

Now, they being, as I said, not far from the gate in at which they 
came, their voice was heard from where they were, 
thither; wherefore some of the house came out, and itis^oodtocry 
knowing that it was Christiana's tongue, they made assaulted. we MC 
haste to her relief. But by that they were got within 
sight of them, the women were in a very great scuffle, the children 
also stood crying by. Then did he that came in for their relief call 
out to the ruffians, saying, What is that thing that you do ? Would 
you make my Lord's people to transgress? He also attempted to take 
them, but they did make their escape over the wall into the garden of 
the man to whom the great dog belonged; so the dog became their 
protector. This Reliever then came up to the women, and asked 
them how they did. So they answered, We thank thy Prince, pretty 
well; only we have been somewhat affrighted; we thank thee also, for 
that thou earnest in to our help, for otherwise we had been overcome. 

Reliever. So after a few more words, this Reliever said as follow - 
eth : I marvelled much when you were entertained at the gate above, 
being [as] ye knew, that ye were but weak women, that you peti- 
tioned not the Lord there for a conductor; then might you have 
avoided these troubles and dangers, for He would have granted you 
one. 

* Deut. xx ii. 23—27. 

I 2 



143 ASK AND YE SHALL RECEIVE. 

Chris. Alas ! said Christiana, we were so taken with our present 
blessings, that dangers to come were forgotten by us; besides, who 
could have thought that so near the King's palace, there should have 
lurked such naughty ones? Indeed, it had been well for us, had we 
asked our Lord for one; but, since our Lord knew it would be for 
our profit, 1 wonder he sent not one along with us ! 

Rel. It is not always necessary to grant things not asked for, lest, 
by so doing, they become of little esteem; but when 

cf V askin e f ?oV Vant tlle want of a tllm S is felt - il then comes under, in the 
eyes of him that feels it, that estimate that properly is 
its due, and so, consequently, will be thereafter used. Had my 
Lord granted you a conductor, you would not neither so have be- 
wailed that oversight of yours, in not asking for one, as now you 
have occasion to do. So all things work for good, and tend to 
make you wary. 

Chris. Shall we go back again to my Lord, and confess our folly, 
and ask one ? 

Rel. Your confession of your folly I will present him with. To 
go back again you need not; for in all places where you shall come, 
you will find no want at all; for in every of my Lord's lodgings 
which he has prepared for the reception of his pilgrims, there is suffi- 
cient to furnish them against all attempts whatsoever. But, as I 
said, " He will be inquired of by them, to do it for them."* And it 
is a poor thing that is not worth asking for. When he had thus 
said, he went back to his place, and the pilgrims went on their way. 

Mercy. Then said Mercy, What a sudden blank is here ! I made 
account we had now been past all danger, and that we should never 
see sorrow more. 

Chris. Thy innocency, my sister, said Christiana to Mercy, may 
excuse thee much; but as for me, my fault is so much the greater, 
for that I saw this danger before I came out of the doors, and yet 
did not provide for it where provision might have been had. I am 
therefore much to be blamed. 

Mercy. Then said Mercy, How knew you this before you came 
from home? Pray open to me this riddle. 

Chris. Why, I will tell you. Before I set foot out of doors, one 
night, as I lay in my bed, I had a dream about this; for, methought 
1 saw two men, as like these as ever the world they could look, stand 
at my bed's feet, plotting how they might prevent my salvation. I 
will tell you their very words. They said (it was when I was in my 
troubles), What shall we do with this woman ? for she cries out, 
waking and sleeping, for forgiveness. If she be suffered to go on as 

* lizck. xxxvi. 37. 



INNOCENT OPENS THE DOOR. 149 

she begins, we shall lose her, as we have lost her husband. This, 
you know, might have made me take heed, and have provided when 
provision might have been had. 

Mercy/. Well, said Mercy, as by this neglect we have an occasion 
ministered unto us, to behold our own imperfections; so our Lord 
has taken occasion thereby to make manifest the riches of his grace; 
for he, as we see, has followed us with unasked kindness, and has 
delivered us from their hands that were stronger than we, of his 
mere good pleasure. 

Thus, now when they had talked away a little more time, they 
drew nigh to a house which stood in the way, which house was built 
for the relief of pilgrims; as you will find more fully related in the 
First. Part of these Records of the Pilgrim's Progress. So they drew 
on towards the house (the House of the Interpreter), and when they 
came to the door, they heard a great talk in the house. They then 
gave ear, and heard, as they thought, Christiana mentioned byname. 
For you must know that there went along, even before her, a talk 
of her and her children's going on pilgrimage. And this thing was the 
more pleasing to them, because they had heard that she was Chris- 
tian's wife, that woman who was sometime ago so unwilling to hear 
of going on pilgrimage. Thus, therefore, they stood still, and heard 
the good people within commending her, who, they little thought, 
stood at the door. At last Christiana knocked, as she had done at 
the gate before. Now, when she had knocked, there came to the 
door a young damsel, named Innocent, and opened the door and 
looked, and behold two women were there. 

Damsel. Then said the damsel to them, With whom would you 
speak in this place ? 

Chris. Christiana answered, We understand that this is a privi- 
leged place for those that are become pilgrims, and we now at this 
door are such; wherefore we pray that we may be partakers of that 
for which we at this time are come; for the day, as thou seest, is very 
far spent, and we are loath to-night to go any further. 

Damsel. Pray what may I call your name, that I may tell it to 
my Lord within? 

Chris. My name is Christiana; I was the wife of that pilgrim 
that some years ago did travel this way, and these be his four 
children. This maiden also is my companion, and is going on 
pilgrimage too. 

Innocent. Then ran Innocent in (for that was her name), and 
said to those within, Can you think who is at the door? There is 
Christiana and her children, and her companion, all waiting lor 
entertainment here. Then they leaped for joy, and went and told 



i5o THE MAN WITH THE MUCK-RAKE. 

their master. So he came to the door, and looking upon her he 
said, Art thou that Christiana whom Christian, the good man, left 
behind him, when he took himself to a pilgrim's life ? 

Chris. I am that woman that was so hard-hearted as to slight my 
husband's troubles, and that left him to go on in his journey alone, 
and these are his four children; but now I also am come, for I am 
convinced that no way is right but this. 

Inter. Then is fulfilled that which also is written of the man 
that said to his son, " Go, work to-day in my vineyard. He answered 
and said, I will not : but afterwards he repented and went."* 

Chris. Then said Christiana, So be it, Amen. God make it a true 
saying upon me, and grant that I may be found at the last of him in 
peace, without spot, and blameless ! 

Inter. But why standest thou thus at the door? Come in, thou 
daughter of Abraham. We were talking of thee but now, for tidings 
have come to us before, how thou art become a pilgrim. Come, 
children, come in; come, maiden, come in. So he had them all into 
the house. 

So, when they were within, they were bidden sit down and rest 
them; the which when they had done, those that attended upon the 
pilgrims in the house, came into the room to see them. And one 
smiled, and another smiled, and they all smiled, for joy that Chris- 
tiana was become a pilgrim. They also looked upon 
Old saints glad the boys. They stroked them over the faces with 
ones 6 waik° UI i'n the hand, in token of their kind reception of them. 
God's ways. They also carried it lovingly to Mercy, and bid all 

welcome into their Master's house. 

After a while, because supper was not ready, the Interpreter took 
... t them into his significant rooms, and showed them 

Rooiusf 1 ^ 111 Can what Christian, Christiana's husband, had seen some 
time before. Here, therefore, they saw the man in 
the cage, the man and his dream, the man that cut his way through 
his enemies, and the picture of the biggest of them all, together 
with the rest of those things that were then so profitable to Christian. 

This done, and after these things had been somewhat digested by 
Christiana and her company, the Interpreter takes them apart again, 
and has them first into a room where was a man that could look no 
way but downwards, with a muck-rake in his hand. There stood 
also one over his head, with a celestial crown in his hand, and prof- 
fered him that crown for his muck-rake; but the man did neither 
look up, nor regard, but raked to himself the straws, the small sticks, 
and dust of the floor. 

* Matt. xxi. 29. 



THE SPIDER ON THE WALL. 151 

Then said Christiana, I persuade myself that I know somewhat 
the meaning of this ; for this is a figure of a man of this world, is it 
not, good Sir? 

Inter. Thou hast said the right, said he, and his muck-rake doth 
show his carnal mind. And whereas thou seest him rather give heed 
to rake up straws and sticks, and the dust of the floor, than to what 
He says that calls to him from above with the celestial crown in his 
hand, it is to show that heaven is but as a fable to some, and that 
things here are counted the only things substantial. Now, whereas 
it was also showed thee, that the man could look no way but down- 
wards, it is to let thee know that earthly things, when they are with 
power upon men's minds, quite carry their hearts away from God. 

Chris. Then said Christiana, Oh, deliver me from this muck-rake ! 

Inter. That prayer, said the Interpreter, has lain by till it is 
almost rusty. " Give me not riches," is scarce the prayer of one of 
ten thousand.* Straws, and sticks, and dust, with most, are the 
great things now looked after. 

With that Mercy and Christiana wept, and said, It is, alas ! too 
true. 

When the Interpreter had shown them this, he had them into the 
very best room in the house; a very brave room it was. So he bid 
them look round about, and see if they could find anything profitable 
there. Then they looked round and round; for there was nothing 
there to be seen but a very great spider on the wail : and that they 
overlooked. 

Mercy. Then said Mercy, Sir, I see nothing ; but Christiana held 
her peace. 

Inter. But, said the Interpreter, look again; and she therefore 
looked again, and said, Here is not anything but an ugly spider, who 
hangs by her hands upon the wall. Then said he, Is there but one 
spider in all this spacious room ? Then the water stood in Christiana's 
eyes, for she was a woman quick of apprehension; and she said, 
Yea, Lord, there is here more than one. Yea, and spiders whose 
venom is far more destructive than that which is in her. The Inter- 
preter then looked pleasantly upon her, and said, Thou hast said the 
truth. This made Mercy blush, and the boys to cover their faces, 
for they all began now to understand the riddle. 

Then said the Interpreter again, "The spider taketh hold with her 
hands (as you see), and is in Kings' palaces. "t And wherefore is 
this recorded, but to show you, that how full of the venom of sin 
soever you be, yet you may, by the hand of faith, lay hold of, and 
dwell in the best room that belongs to the King's house above. 

* Prov. xxx. 8. f Prov. xxx. 28. 



152 THE HEN AND CHICKEN. 

Chris. I thought, said Christiana, of something of this ; but I 
could not imagine it all. I thought that we were like spiders, and 
that we looked like ugly creatures, in what fine room soever we were; 
but that by this spider, this venomous and ill-favoured creature, we 
were to learn how to act faith, that came not into my mind. And 
yet she has taken hold with her hands, as I see, and dwells in g the 
best room in the house. God has made nothing in vain. 

Then they seemed all to be glad ; but the water stood in their eyes; 
yet they looked one upon another, and also bowed before the Inter- 
preter. 

He had them then into another room, where was a hen and 
chickens, and bid them observe a while. So one of the chickens 
went to the trough to drink, and every time she drank, she lifted up 
her head and her eyes towards heaven. See, said he, what this little 
chick doth, and learn of her to acknowledge whence your mercies 
come, by receiving them with looking up. Yet again, said he, ob- 
serve and look ; so they gave heed and perceived that the hen did 
walk in a four-fold method towards her chickens, i. She had a 
common call, and that she hath all day long. 2. She had a special 
call, and that she had but sometimes. 3. She had a brooding note. 
And 4. She had an outcry.* 

Now, said he, compare this hen to your King, and these chickens 
to his obedient ones. For, answerable to her, himself has his methods, 
which he walketh in towards his people ; by his common call, he 
gives nothing; by his special call, he always has something to give; 
he has also a brooding voice, for them that are under his wing; and 
he has an outcry to give the alarm when he seeth the enemy come. 
I chose, my darlings, to lead you into the room where such things 
are, because you are women, and they are easy for you. 

And, Sir, said Christiana, pray let us see some more. So he had 
them into the slaughter-house, where was a butcher killing of a sheep; 
and behold the sheep was quiet, and took her death patiently. Then 
said the Interpreter, You must learn of this sheep to suffer, and to 
put up wrongs without murmurings and complaints. Behold how 
quietly she taketh her death, and without objecting, she suffereth her 
skin to be pulled over her ears. Your King doth call you his sheep. 

After this, he led them into his garden, where was great variety of 
flowers; and he said, Do you see all these? So Christiana said, 
Yes. Then said he again, Behold the flowers are diverse in stature, 
in quality, and colour, and smell, and virtue ; and some are better 
than some ; also where the gardener hath set them, there they stand, 
and quarrel not with one another. 

* Matt, xxiii. 37. 




THE PILGRIMS SET OUT P. 1 39. 




THE KING S TRUMPETER. P. I42. 



THE ROBIN REDBREAST. 153 

Again, he had them into his field, which he had sowed with wheat 
and corn ; but when they beheld, the tops of all were cut off, only 
the straw remained ; he said again, This ground was dunged, and 
ploughed, and sowed; but what shall we do with the crop? -Then 
said Christiana, Burn some, and make muck of the rest. Then said 
the Interpreter again, Fruit, you see, is that thing you look for, and 
for want of that you condemn it to the fire, and to be trodden under 
foot of men : beware that in this you condemn not yourselves. 

Then, as they were coming in from abroad , they espied a little 
robin with a great spider in his mouth ; so the Interpreter said, Look 
here. So they looked, and Mercy wondered ; but Christiana said, 
What a disparagement is it to such a little pretty bird as the robin- 
red-breast is, he being also a bird above many, that loveth to main- 
tain a kind of sociableness with man ; I had thought they had lived 
upon crumbs of bread, or upon other such harmless matter. I like 
him worse than I did. 

The Interpreter then replied, This robin is an emblem, very apt to 
set forth some professors by ; for to sight they are, as this robin, 
pretty of note, colour, and carriage. They seem also to have a very 
great love for professors that are sincere ; and above all other, to 
desire to sociate with them, and to be in their company, as if they 
could live upon the good man's crumbs. They pretend also, that 
therefore it is that they frequent the house of the godly and the ap- 
pointments of the Lord ; but, when they are by themselves, as the 
robin, they can catch and gobble up spiders, they can change their 
diet, drink iniquity, and swallow down sin like water. 

So, when they were come again into the house, because supper as 
yet was not ready, Christiana again desired that the 
Interpreter would either show or tell of some other w iii ra /et a at tfSt 
things that are profitable. which yet lies 

Then the Interpreter began, and said, The fatter unrevealed - 
the sow is, the more she desires the mire ; the fatter the ox is, the 
more gamesomely he goes to the slaughter ; and the more healthy the 
lusty man is, the more prone he is unto evil. 

There is a desire in women to go neat and fine, and it is a comely 
thing to be adorned with that that in God's sight is of great price. 

It is easier watching a night or two, than to sit up a whole year 
together. So it is easier for one to begin to profess well, than to hold 
out as he should to the end. 

Every shipmaster, when in a storm, will willingly cast that over- 
board that is of the smallest value in the vessel ; but who will throw 
the best out first? None but he that feareth not God. 

One leak will sink a ship ; and one sin will destroy a sinner. 



154 THE HOLLOW TREE. 

He that forgets his friend, is ungrateful unto him ; but he that for- 
gets his Saviour, is unmerciful to himself. 

He that lives in sin, and looks for happiness hereafter, is like him 
that soweth cockle, and thinks to fill his barn with wheat or barley. 

If a man would live well, let him fetch his last clay to him, and 
make it always his company keeper. 

Whispering, and change of thoughts, prove that sin is in the world. 

If the world, which God sets light by, is counted a thing of that 
worth with men ; what is heaven, which God commendeth? 

If the life that is attended with so many troubles, is so loath to be 
let go by us, what is the life above ? 

Everybody will cry up the goodness of men ; but who is there that 
is, as he should, affected with the goodness of God? 

We seldom sit down to meat, but we eat and leave ; so there is in 
Jesus Christ more merit and righteousness than the whole world has 
need of. 

When the Interpreter had done, he takes them out into his garden 
again, and had them to a tree, whose inside was all 
isrmtenSart! rotten anc I gone, and yet it grew and had leaves. 
Then said Mercy, What means this? This tree, said 
he, whose outside is fair, and whose inside is rotten, it is to which 
many may be compared that are in the garden of God ; who with 
their mouths speak high in behalf of God, but indeed will do nothing 
for Him ; whose leaves are fair, but their heart good for nothing but 
to be tinder for the devil's tinder-box. 

Now supper was ready, the table spread, and all things set on the 
board ; so they sat clown and did eat, when one had given thanks. 
And the Interpreter did usually entertain those that lodged with him, 
with music at meals ; so the minstrels played. There was also one 
that did sing, and a very fine voice he had. His song was this : 

" The Lord is only my support. 
And lie that doth me feed ; 
How can 1 then want anything 
Whereof I stand in ncedf 

When the song and music was ended, the Interpreter asked Chris- 
tiana what it was that at first did move her to betake herself to a 
Pilgrim's life. Christiana answered, First, The loss of my husband 
came into my mind, at which I was heartily grieved ; but all that was 
but natural affection. Then, after that, came the troubles and pil- 
grimage of my husband into my mind, and also how like a churl I 
had carried it to him as to that. So guilt took hold of my mind, and 
would have drawn me into the pond ; but that opportunely 1 had a 
dream of the well-being of my husband, and a letter sent me by the 



EARLY PIETY. 155 

King of that country where my husband dwells, to come to him. 
The dream and the letter together so wrought upon my mind, that 
they forced me to this way. 

Inter. But met you with no opposition before you set out of 
doors ? 

Chris. Yes, a neighbour of mine, one Mrs. Timorous (she was 
akin to him that would have persuaded my husband to go back, for 
fear of the lions). She also so befooled me for, as she called it, my 
intended desperate adventure ; she also urged what she could to dis- 
hearten me from it, the hardship and troubles that my husband met 
with in the way: but all this I got over pretty well. But a dream 
that I had of two ill-looked ones, that I thought did plot how to 
make me miscarry in my journey, that hath troubled me much ; yea, 
it still runs in my mind, and makes me afraid of every one that I 
meet, lest they should meet me to do me a mischief, and to turn me 
out of the way. Yea, I may tell my Lord, though I would not have 
everybody know it, that between this and the gate by which we got 
into the way, we were both so sorely assaulted that we were made to 
cry out, Murder ! and the two that made this assault upon us were 
like the two that I saw in my dream. 

Then said the Interpreter, Thy beginning is good, thy latter end 
shall greatly increase. So he addressed himself to Mercy, and said 
unto her, And what moved thee to come hither, sweet heart? 

Then Mercy blushed and trembled, and for a while continued 
silent. 

Inter. Then said he, Be not afraid, only believe, and speak thy 
mind. 

Mercy. So she began, and said, Truly, Sir, my want of expe- 
rience is that which makes me covet to be in silence, and that also 
that fills me with fears of coming short at last. I cannot tell of 
visions and dreams as my friend Christiana can ; nor know I what it 
is to mourn for my refusing of the counsel of those that were good 
relations. 

Inter. What was it then, dear heart, that hath prevailed with 
thee to do as thou hast done? 

Mercy. Why, when our friend here was packing up to be gone 
from our town, I and another went accidentally to see her ; so we 
knocked at the door and went in. When we were within, and seeing 
what she was doing, we asked what was her meaning. She said, she 
was sent for to go to her husband; and then she up and told us how 
she had seen him in a dream, dwelling in a curious place, among im- 
mortals, wearing a crown, playing upon a harp, eating and drinking at 
his Prince's table, and singing praises to him for bringing him thither, 



156 SANCTIFICATION. 

Szc. Now, methought, while she was telling these things unto us, 
my heart burned within me; and I said in my heart, If this be true, 
I will leave my father and my mother, and the land of my nativity, 
and will, if I may, go along with Christiana. 

So I asked her further of the truth of these things, and if she 
would let me go with her; for I saw now that there was no dwelling, 
but with the danger of ruin, any longer in our town. But yet I came 
away with a heavy heart, not for that I was unwilling to come away, 
but for that so many of my relations were left behind. 

And I am come, with all the desire of my heart, and will go, if I 
may, with Christiana, unto her husband, and his King. 

Inter. Thy setting out is good, for thou hast given credit to the 
truth. Thou art a Ruth, who did, for the love she bare to Naomi, 
and to the Lord her God, leave father and mother, and the land of 
her nativity, to come out, and go with a people that she knew not 
heretofore. "The Lord recompense thy work, and a full reward be 
given thee of the Lord God of Israel, under whose wings thou art 
come to trust."* 

Now supper was ended, and preparation was made for bed; the 
women were laid singly alone, and the boys by themselves. Now 
when Mercy was in bed, she could not sleep for joy, for that now 
her doubts of missing at. last, were removed further from her than 
ever they were before. So she lay blessing and praising God, who 
had had such favour for her. 

In the morning they rose with the sun, and prepared themselves 
for their departure; but the Interpreter would have them tarry awhile, 
for, said he, you must orderly go from hence. Then said he to the 
damsel that first opened unto them, Take them and have them into 
the garden to the bath, and there wash them, and make them clean 
from the soil which they have gathered by travelling. Then Inno- 
cent the damsel took them, and had them into the garden, and 
brought them to the bath; so she told them that there 
The bath Sane- (] ie y must wash and be clean, for so her master would 
have the women to do that called at his lious?, as 
they were going on pilgrimage. They then went in and washed, 
yea, they and the boys and all ; and they came out of that bath, not 
only sweet and clean, but also much enlivened and strengthened in 
their joints. So when they came in, they looked fairer a deal than 
when they went out to the washing. 

When they were returned out of the garden from the bath, the 
Interpreter took them, and looked upon them, and said unto them, 
Fair as the moon. Then he called for the seal, wherewith they used 

* Ruth ii. 12. 



HUMILITY. 157 

to be sealed that were washed in his bath. So the seal was brought, 
and he set his mark upon them, that they might be known in the 
places whither they were yet to go. Now the seal was the contents 
and sum of the passover which the children of Israel did eat when 
they came out from the land of Egypt, and the mark was set be- 
tween their eyes. The seal greatly added to their beauty, for it was 
an ornament to their faces. It also added to their gravity, and made 
their countenances more like those of angels.* 

Then said the Interpreter again to the damsel that waited upon 
these women, Go into the vestry and fetch out garments for these 
people ;t so she went and fetched out white raiment, and laid down 
before him ; so he commanded them to put it on. "It was fine 
linen, white and clean. "% When the women were thus adorned, 
they seemed to be a terror one to the other ; for that they could not 
see that glory each one on herself which they could see in each other. 
Now, therefore, they began to esteem each other better than them- 
selves. " For you are fairer than I am," said one; . ... 
and, ' ' You are more comely than I am, " said another. rue umi l y * 
The children also stood amazed to see into what fashion they were 
brought. 

The Interpreter then called for a man-servant of his, one Great- 
heart, and bid him take sword and helmet and shield; and take these 
my daughters, said he, and conduct them to the house called Beau- 
tiful, at which place they will rest next. So he took his weapons and 
went before them; and the Interpreter said, Godspeed. Those, also, 
that belonged to the family, sent them away with many a good wish. 
So they went on their way and sang — 

" This place has been our second stage ; 
Here we have heard and seen 
Those good things that, from age to age, 
To others hid have been. 

" The dunghill-raker, spider, hen, 
The chicken, too, to me 
Hath taught a lesson ; let me then 
Conformed to it be. 

" The butcher, garden, and the field, 
The robin and his bait, 
Also the rotten tree doth yield 
Me argument of weight. 

" To move me for to watch and pray, 
To strive to be sincere ; 
To take my cross up day by day. 
And serve the Lord with fear." 

Now I saw in my dream, that they went on, and Great-heart went 
before them: so they went and came to the place where Christian's 

* Exod. xili. 8 — 10. t Matt. xxii. 11. J Rev. xix. 8. 



i 5 8 CHRIST S DIVINE NATURE. 

burden fell off his back, and tumbled into a sepulchre. Here, then, 
they made a pause; and here also they blessed God. Now, said 
Christiana, it comes to my mind, what was said to us at the gate, to 
wit, that we should have pardon by word and deed; by word, that is, 
by the promise; by deed, to wit, in the way it was obtained. What 
the promise is, of that I know something; but what it is to have 
pardon by deed, or in the way that it was obtained, Mr. Great-heart, 
I suppose you know; wherefore, if you please, let us hear you dis- 
course thereof. 

Great-heart. Pardon by the deed done, is pardon obtained by 
some one, for another that hath need thereof : not by the person 
pardoned, but in the way, saith another, in which I have obtained it. 
So then, to speak to the question more at large, the pardon that you 
and Mercy and these boys have attained, was obtained by another, 
to wit, by Him that let you in at the gate; and He hath obtained it 
in this double way. He has performed righteousness to cover you, 
and spilt blood to wash you in. 

Chris. But if he parts with his righteousness to us, what will he 
have for himself? 

Great-heart. He has more righteousness than you have need 
of, or than lie needeth himself. 

Chris. Pray make that appear. 

Great-heart. With all my heart; but first I must premise, that 
He of whom we are now about to speak is one that has not his 
fellow. He has two natures in one person, plain to be distinguished, 
impossible to be divided. Unto each of these natures a righteous- 
ness belongeth, and each righteousness is essential to that nature ; 
so that one may as easily cause the nature to be extinct, as to sepa- 
rate its justice or righteousness from it. Of these righteousnesses, 
therefore, we are not made partakers, so as that they, or any of them, 
should be put upon us that we might be made just, and live thereby. 
Besides these, there is a righteousness which this Person lias, as these 
two natures are joined in one: and this is not the righteousness of 
the Godhead, as distinguished from the manhood; nor the righteous- 
ness of the manhood, as distinguished from the Godhead; but a righ- 
teousness which standeth in the union of both natures, and may 
probably be called, the righteousness that is essential to His being 
prepared of God to the capacity of his mediatory office which He was 
to be intrusted with. If He parts with His first righteousness, He 
parts with his Godhead; if He parts with His second righteousness, 
He parts with the purity of His manhood; if He parts with this third, 
. He parts with that perfection that capacitates Him to 

"dience? e * the office of mediation, lie has, therefore, another 



THE GIFT OF RIGHTEOUSNESS. 159 

righteousness which standeth in performance, or obedience to a 
revealed will; and that is it that He puts upon sinners, and that by 
which their sins are covered. Wherefore Hesaith, " As by one man's 
disobedience, many were made sinners; so by the obedience of one, 
shall many be made righteous."* 

Chris. But are the other righteousnesses of no use to us ? 

Great-heart. Yes ; for though they are essential to his natures 
and office, and so cannot be communicated unto another, yet it is by 
virtue of them, that the righteousness that justifies, is, for that purpose, 
efficacious. The righteousness of his Godhead gives virtue to his 
obedience; the righteousness of his manhood giveth capability to his 
obedience to justify; and the righteousness that standeth in the union. 
of these two natures to his office, giveth authority to that righteous- 
ness to do the work for which it is ordained. 

So then, here is a righteousness that Christ, as God, has no need 
for, for he is God without it ; here is a righteousness that Christ, as 
man, has no need of to make him so, for he is perfect man without 
it ; again, here is a righteousness that Christ, as God-man, has no 
need of, for he is perfectly so without it. Here, then, is a righteous- 
ness that Christ, as God, as man, as God-man, has no need of, with 
reference to himself, and therefore he can spare it ; a justifying 
righteousness, that he for himself wanteth not, and therefore he 
giveth it away; hence it is called " the gift of righteousness, "t This 
righteousness, since Christ Jesus the Lord has made himself under 
the law, must be given away; for the law doth not only bind him 
that is under it "to do justly," but to use charity. Wherefore he 
must, he ought, by the law, if he hath two coats, to give one to him 
that hath none. Now, our Lord, indeed, hath two coats, one for 
himself, and one to spare; wherefore he freely bestows one upon 
those that have none. And thus, Christiana, and Mercy, and the 
rest of you that are here, doth your pardon come by deed, or by the 
work of another man. Your Lord Christ is He that has worked, and 
has given away what He wrought for to the next poorbegger He meets. 
But, again, in order to pardon by deed, there must something be 
paid to God as a price, as well as something prepared to cover us 
withal. JSin has delivered us up to the just curse of a righteous law; 
now, from this curse we must be justified by way of redemption, a 
price being paid for the harms we have done, % and this is by the 
blood of your Lord, who came and stood in your place and stead, and 
died your death for your transgressions. § Thus has he ransomed you 
from your transgressions by blood, and covered your polluted and 
deformed souls with righteousness. For the sake of which, God 

* Rom. v. 19. t Rom. v. 17. ; Rum. iv. 24. k Gal. iii. 13. 



i6o CHRISTIANA'S REJOICING. 

passeth by you, and will not hurt you when he comes to judge the 
world. 

Chris. This is brave. Now, I see there was something to be 
learned by our being pardoned by word and deed. Good Mercy, let 
us labour to keep this in mind ; and, my children, do you remember 
it also. But, Sir, was not this it that made my good Christian's 
burden fall from off his shoulder, and that made him give three leaps 
for joy ? 

Great-heart. Yes, it was the belief of this, that cut those strings 
that could not be cut by other means ; and it was to give him a proof 
of the virtue of this, that he was suffered to carry his burden to the cross. 

Chris. I thought so; for though my heart was lightful and joyous 
before, yet it is ten times more lightsome and joyous now. And I 
am persuaded by what I have felt, though I have felt but little as 
yet, that if the most burdened man in the world was here, and did 
see and believe as I now do, it would make his heart the more merry 
and blithe. 

Great-heart. There is not only comfort, and the ease of a 

How affection burden brought to us, by the sight and consideration 
to Christ is begot of these, but an endeared affection begot in us by it ; 
m the soul. f or w ^ 10 can> jf j ie ^th ^ ut once think that pardon 

comes, not only by promise, but thus, but be affected by the ways 
and means of his redemption, and so with the man that wrought it 
for him ? 

Chris. True ; methinks it makes my heart bleed to think 
that He should bleed for me. Oh, thou loving One ! Oh, thou 
blessed One ! Thou deservest to have me; thou hast bought 
me ; thou deservest to have me all ; thou hast paid for me ten 
thousand times more than I am worth ! No marvel that this 
made the water stand in my husband's eyes, and that it made 
him trudge so nimbly on; I am persuaded he wished me with 
him; but vile wretch that I was, I let him come all alone. Oh, 
Mercy, that thy father and mother were here; yea, and Mrs. Timo- 
rous also; nay, I wish now with all my heart, that here was Madam 
Wanton too. Surely, surely their hearts would be affected; nor 
could the fear of the one, nor the powerful lusts of the other, prevail 
with them to go home again, and to refuse to become good pilgrims. 

Great- pie art. You speak now in the warmth of your affections. 
Will it, think you, be always thus with you? Resides, this is not 
communicated to every one that did see your Jesus bleed. There 
were that stood by, and that saw the blood run from his heart to the 
ground, and yet were so far off this, that, instead of lamenting, they 
laughed at him: and, instead of becoming his disciples, did harden 




THE MAN AND THE MUCK RAKE. P. 151. 




MR. OREATHEART. — F. T 5 ) 



SIMPLE, SLOTH, AND. PRESUMPTION. 161 

their hearts against him. So that all that you have, my daughters, you 
have by a peculiar impression made by a divine contemplating upon 
what I have spoken to you. Remember that it was told you, that the 
hen, by her common call, gives no meat to her chickens. This you 
have, therefore, by a special grace. 

Now, I saw still in my dream, that they went on until they were 
come to the place that Simple, and Sloth, and Presumption lay and 
slept in, when Christian went by on pilgrimage ; and, behold, 
they were hanged up in irons, a little way off on the other side. 

Mercy. Then said Mercy to him that was their guide and con- 
ductor, What are those three men ; and for what are they hanged there ? 

Great-heart. These three men were men of very bad qualities. 
They had no mind to be pilgrims themselves, and whosoever they 
could, they hindered. They were for sloth and folly themselves, and 
whoever they could persuade with, they made so too; and, withal, 
taught them to presume that they should do well at last. They were 
asleep when Christian went by; and now you goby, they are hanged. 

" Behold here how the slothful are a sign 
Hung up, 'cause holy ways they did decline. 
See here, too, how the child doth play the man, 
And weak grow strong when Great-heart leads the van." 

Mercy. But could they persuade any to be of their opinion? 

Great-heart. Yes; they turned several out of the way. There 
was Slow-pace, that they persuaded to do as they. They also pre- 
vailed with one Short-wind, with one No-heart, with one Linger- 
after lust, and with one Sleepy-head, and with a young woman, her 
name was Dull, to turn out of the way, and become as they. Besides, 
they brought up an ill report of your Lord, persuading others that 
He was a taskmaster. They also brought up an evil report of the 
good land, saying it was not half so good as some pretend it was. 
They also began to vilify his servants, and to count the very best of 
them meddlesome, troublesome busybodies. Further they could call 
the bread of God husks; the comforts of his children, fancies; the 
travel and labour of pilgrims, things to no purpose. 

Chris. Nay, said Christiana, if they were such, they shall never 
be bewailed by me. They have but what they deserve; and I think 
it is well that they hang so near the highway, that others may see 
and take warning. But had it not been well if their crimes had been 
engraven on some plate of iron or brass, and left here, even where 
they did their mischief, for a caution to other bad men ? 

Great-heart. S6 it is, as you well may peiceive, if you will go 
a little to the wall. 

Mercy. No, no; let them hang, and their names rot, and their 

M 



i62 BY-PATHS. 

crimes live for ever against them. I think it a high favour 
they were hanged before we came hither; who knows else wha; 
might have done to such poor women as we are? Then she 
turned it into a song, saying — 

" Now then, you three, harg there, and be a sign 
To all that shall against the truth combine. 
And let him that comes after fear this end, 
If unto pilgrims he is not a friend. 
And thou, my soul, of all such men beware, 
That unto holiness oppesers are." 

Thus they went on, till they came at the foot of the Hill Difficulty, 

it is difficult wnere » again, their good friend, Mr. Great-heart, took 

getting of good an occasion to tell them of what happened there when 

doctrine in erro- Christian himself went bv. So he had them first to 

neous times. ., . T .,,-.., , .„ . 

the spring. Lo, said he, this is the spring that Chris- 
tian drunk of, before he went up this hill; and then it was clear and 
good, but now it is dirty with the feet of some that are not desirous 
that pilgrims here should quench their thirst.* Thereat, Mercy said, 
And why so envious, trow ? But, said their guide, it will do, if taken 
up, and put into a vessel that is sweet and good; for then the dirt 
will sink to the bottom, and the water will come out by itself more 
clear. Thus, therefore, Christiana and her companions were c 
pelled to do. They took it up, and put it into an earthen pot, and 
so let it stand till the dirt was gone to the bottom, and then they 
drank thereof. 

Xext, he showed them the two by-ways that were at the foot of the 

hill, where Formality and Hypocrisy lost themselves.! 

By-paths, though And, said he, these are dangerous paths. Two were! 

p U aiifrom nere cast away when Christian came by; and, al- 

nthem. though, as you see, these ways are since stopped 

up with chains, posts, and a ditch, yet there are that 

will choose to adventure here, rather than take the pains to go up 

this hill. 

Chris. ''The way of transgressors is hard."t It is a wonder 
that they can get into those ways without danger of breaking their 
necks. 

Gkeat-heart. They will venture. Yea, if at any time any of the 
king's servants do happen to see them, and do call unto them, and 
tell them that they are in the wrong ways, and do bid them beware 
the danger, then they will raihngly return them answer, and say, 
for the word that thou hast spoken unto us in the name of the I>ord, 
we will not hearken unto thee; but we will certainly do whatsoever 
tiling roeth forth out of our own mouth," &c.$ Nay, if you look a 

Bk. axxiv. 18. t 1'iov xiii. 15. J Jcr. xliv. 16, 17. 



THE HILL DIFFICULTY. 163 

little further, you shall see that these ways are made cautionary 
enough, not only by these posts, and ditch, and chain, but also by 
being hedged up, yet they will choose to go there. 

Chris. They are idle ; they love not to take pains ; up-hill way is 
unpleasant to them. So it is fulfilled unto them as it 
is written, "The way of the slothful man is as an The reason why 
hedge of thorns."* Yea, they will rather choose to walk s ^%t^V° 
upon a snare, than to go up this hill, and the rest of 
this way to the city. 

Then they set forward, and began to go up the hill, and up the 
hill they went ; but before they got to the top, Christiana began to 
pant; and said, I dare say this is a breathing hill. No marvel if they 
that love their ease more than their souls, choose to themselves a 
smoother way. Then said Mercy, I must sit down; also the least of 
the children began to cry. Come, come, said Great-heart, sit not 
down here, for a little above is the Prince's arbour. Then took he 
the little boy by the hand, and led him up thereto. 

When they were come to the arbour, they were very willing to sit 
down, for they were all in a pelting heat. Then said Mercy, How 
sweet is rest to them that labour, t And how good is the Prince of 
pilgrims to provide such resting-places for them ! Of this arbour I 
have heard much ; but I never saw it before. But here let us beware 
of sleeping ; for, as I have heard, for that it cost poor Christian dear. 

Then said Mr. Great-heart to the little ones, Come, my pretty boys, 
how do you do? What think you now of going on pilgrimage? Sir, 
said the least, I was almost beat out of heart ; but I thank you for 
lending me a hand at my need. And I remember now what my 
mother hath told me, namely, that the way to heaven is as up a lad- 
der, and the way to hell is as down a hill. But I had rather go up 
the ladder to life, than down the hill to death. 

Then said Mercy, But the proverb is, To go down the hill is easy. 
But James said (for that was his name), The day is 
coming when, in my opinion, going down hill will be which is hardest, 
the hardest of all. Tis a good boy, said his Master, Eft hlU or dowa 
thou hast given her a right answer. Then Mercy 
smiled; but the little boy did blush. 

Chris. Come, said Christiana, will you eat a bit, a little to sweeten 
your mouths, while you sit here to rest your legs? For I have here a 
piece of pomegranate, which Mr. Interpreter put in my hand, just 
when I came out of his doors. He gave me also a piece of a honey- 
comb, and a little bottle of spirits. I thought he gave you something, 
said Mercy, because he called you aside. Yes : so he did, said the 

* Prov. xv. 19. t Matt. xi. 28. 

M 2 



i6 4 PILGRIMS SHOULD WATCH. 

other. But, said Christiana, it shall still be, as I said it should, when 
at first we came from home, thou shalt be a sharer in all the good 
that I have, because thou so willingly didst become my companion. 
Then she gave to them, and they did eat, both Mercy and the boys. 
And, said Christiana to Mr. Great-heart, Sir, will you do as we? But 
he answered, You are going on pilgrimage, and presently I shall re- 
turn. Much good may what you have do to you. At home I eat the 
same every day. Now, when they had eaten and drank, and had 
chatted a little longer, their guide said to them, The day wears away, 
if you think good, let us prepare to be going. So they got up to go, 
and the little boys went before. But Christiana forgot to take her 
bottle of spirits with her; so she sent her little boy back to fetch it. 
Then said Mercy, I think this is a losing place. Here Christian lost 
his roll; and here Christiana left her bottle behind her. Sir, what is 
the cause of this? So their guide made answer, and said, The cause 
is sleep or forgetfulness. Some sleep when they should keep awake; 
and some forget when they should remember; and this is the very 
cause why, often at the resting-places, some pilgrims, in some things, 
come off losers. Pilgrims should watch, and remember what they 
have already received under their greatest enjoyments ; but for want 
of doing so, ofttimes their rejoicing ends in tears, and their sunshine 
in a cloud. Witness the story of Christian at this place. 

When they were come to the place where Mistrust and Timorous 
met Christian to persuade him to go back for fear of the lions, they 
perceived as it were a stage, and before it, towards the road, a broad 
plate, with a copy of verses written thereon, and underneath, the 
reason of raising up of that stage in that place, rendered. The verses 
were these: — 

" Let him who sees this stage take heed 
Unto his heart and tongue ; 
Lest if he do not, here he speed, 
As some have long agone." 

The words underneath the verses were, " This stage was built to 
punish such upon, who, through Timorousness or Mistrust, shall be 
afraid to go further on pilgrimage; also, on this stage, both Mistrust 
and Timorous were burned through the tongue with a hot iron, for 
endeavouring to hinder Christian in his journey." 

Then said Mercy, This is much like to the saying of the Beloved, 
" What shall be given unto thee? or what shall be done unto thee, 
thou false congue? Sharp arrows of the mighty, with coals of 
juniper."* 

So they went on, till they came within sight of the lions. Now 

* Psa. cxx. 3—4. 



THE LIONS. 165 

Mr. Great-heart was a strong man, so he was not afraid of a lion; 
but yet when they were come up to the place where the lions were, 
the boys that went before were glad to cringe behind, An emblem of 
for they were afraid of the lions; so they stepped back, those that go on 
and went behind. At this their guide smiled, and J^SfTs no'dln- 
said, How now, my boys, do you love to go before, ger, but shrink 
when no danger doth approach, and love to come whe * troubles 

, o ,1 t 1 -* come. 

behind so soon as the lions appear ? 

Now, as they went up, Mr. Great-heart drew his sword, with intent 
to make a way for the pilgrims, in spite of the lions. Then there 
appeared one, that it seems, had taken upon him to back the lions; 
and he said to the Pilgrims' guide, What is the cause of your com- 
ing hither ? Now the name of that man was Grim, or Bloody-man, 
because of his slaying of pilgrims, and he was of the race of the 
giants. 

Great-heart. Then said the Pilgrims' guide, These women and 
children are going on pilgrimage; and this is the way they must go, 
and go it they shall, in spite of thee and the lions. 

Grim. This is not their way, neither shall they go therein. I am 
come forth to withstand them, and to that end will back the lions. 

Now, to say truth, by reason of the fierceness of the lions, and of 

!he grim carriage of him that did back them, this way had of late 
ain much unoccupied, and was almost all grown over with grass. 
Chris. Then said Christiana, Though the highways have been 
moccupied heretofore, and though the travellers have been made in 
iime past to walk through by-paths, it must not be so now I am risen. 
Now, " I am risen a mother in Israel."* 

Grim. Then he swore by the lions but it should; and therefore 
bid them turn aside, for they should not have passage there. 

Great-heart. But their guide made first his approach unto 
Grim, and laid so heavily at him with his sword, that he forced him 
\ to a retreat. 

Grim. Then said he that attempted to back the lions, Will you 
slay me upon mine own ground ? 

Great-heart. It is the King's highway that we are in, and in 
His way it is that thou hast placed thy lions; but these women and 
these children, though weak, shall hold on their way in spite of thy 
lions. And with that he gave him again a downright blow, and 
brought him upon his knees. With this blow he also broke his 
helmet, and with the next he cut off an arm. Then did the giant 
roar so hideously, that his voice frighted the women, and yet they 
were glad to see him lie sprawling upon the ground. Now the lions 

* Judges v. 6, 7. 



i66 THE PORTER'S LODGE. 

were chained, and so of themselves could do nothing. Wherefore, 
when old Grim, that intended to back them, was dead, Mr. Great- 
heart said to the Pilgrims, " Come now, and follow me, and no hurt 
shall happen to you from the lions." They therefore went on, but 
the women trembled as they passed by them; the boys also looked as 
if they would die, but they all got by without further hurt. 

Now then they were within sight of the Porter's Lodge, and they 
soon came up unto it; but they made the more haste after this to go 
thither, because it is dangerous travelling there in the night. So 
when they were come to the gate, the guide knocked, and the Porter 
cried, Who is there ? But as soon as the guide had said, It is I, he 
knew his voice, and came down (for the guide had oft before that, 
come thither, as a conductor of pilgrims). When he was come down, 
he opened the gate, and seeing the guide standing just before it (for 
he saw not the women, for they were behind him), he said unto him, 
How now, Mr. Great-heart, what is your business here so late to- 
night ? I have brought, said he, some pilgrims hither, where, by 
my Lord's commandment, they must lodge; I had been here some 
time ago, had I not been opposed by the giant that did use to back 
the lions; but I, after a long and tedious combat with him, have cut 
him off, and have brought the pilgrims hither in safety. 

Porter. Will you not go in, and stay till morning? 

Great-heart. No, I will return to my Lord to-night. 

Chris. Oh, Sir, I know not how to be willing you should leave us 
in our pilgrimage, you have been so faithful and so loving to us, you 
have fought so stoutly for us, you have been so hearty in counselling 
of us, that I shall never forget your favour towards us. 

Mercy. Then said Mercy, O that we might have thy company to 
our journey's end ! How can such poor women as we hold out in a 
way so full of troubles as this way is, without a friend and defender? 

James. Then said James, the youngest of the boys, Pray, Sir, be 
persuaded to go with us, and help us, because we are so weak, and 
the way so dangerous as it is. 

Great-heart. I am at my Lord's commandment; if he shall 
allot me to be your guide quite through, I will willingly wait upon 
you. But here you failed at first ; for, when He bid me come thus 
far with you, then you should have begged me of Him to have gone 
quite through with you, and he would have granted your request. 
However, at present, I must withdraw; and so, good Christiana, 
Mercy, and my brave children, Adieu. 

Then the Porter, Mr. Watchful, asked Christiana of her country, 
and of her kindred; and she said, I came from the City of Destruc- 
tion; I am a widow woman, and my husband is dead; his name was 



THE REST OF THE PILGRIMS. 167 

Christian, the Pilgrim. How ! said the Porter, was he your hus- 
band? Yes, said she, and these are his children; and this, pointing 
to Mercy, is one of my townswomen. Then the Porter rang his 
bell, as at such times he is wont, and there came to the door one of 
the damsels, whose name was Humble-mind; and to her the Porter 
said, Go tell it within, that Christiana, the wife of Christian, and her 
children, are come hither on pilgrimage. She went in, therefore, 
and told it. But O what noise for gladness was there within, when 
the damsel did but drop that word out of her mouth ! 

So they came with haste to the Porter, for Christiana stood still 
at the door. Then some of the most grave said unto her, Come in, 
Christiana, come in, thou wife of that good man; come in, thou 
blessed woman; come in, with all that are with thee. So she went 
in, and they followed her that were her children and her companions. 
Now when they were gone in, they were had into a very large room, 
where they were bidden to sit down; so they sat 
down, and the chief of the house was called to see christians' love 
and welcome the guests. Then they came in, and g ht nd r d n- C **&> 
understanding who they were, did salute each other tffir. ° 
with a kiss, and said, Welcome, ye vessels of the 
grace of God; welcome to us your friends. 

Now, because it was somewhat late, and because the pilgrims were 
weary with their journey, and also made faint with the sight of the 
fight, and of the terrible lions, therefore they desired, as soon as 
might be, to prepare to go to rest. Nay, said those of the family, 
refresh yourselves first with a morsel of meat; for they had prepared 
for them a lamb, with the accustomed sauce belonging thereto,* 
for the Porter had heard before of their coming, and had told it to 
them within. So when they had supped, and ended their prayer 
with a psalm, they desired they might go to rest. But let us, said 
Christiana, if we may be so bold as to choose, be in that chamber 
that was my husband's when he was here; so they had 
them up thither, and they lay all in a room. When Christ's bosom is 
they were at rest, Christiana and Mercy entered into or d pi gnms ' 
discourse about things that were convenient. 

Chris. Little did I think once, that when my husband went on 
pilgrimage, I should ever have followed. 

Mercy. And you as little thought of lying in his bed, and in his 
chamber to rest, as you do now. 

Chris. And much less did I ever think of seeing his face with 
comfort, and of worshipping the Lord the King with him, and yet 
now I believe I shall. 

* Exod. xii. 21, 28; John i. 29. 



i63 MERCYS DREAM. 

Mercy. Hark ! Don't you hear a noise? 

Chris. Yes; it is, as I believe, a noise of music, for joy that we 
are here. 

Mercy. Wonderful ! music in the house, music in the heart, and 
music also in heaven, for joy that we are here ! 

Thus they talked a while, and then betook themselves to sleep. 
So, in the morning, when these were awake, Christiana said to 
Mercy : 

Chris. What was the matter that you did laugh in your sleep to- 
night ? I suppose you was in a dream. 

Mercy. So I was, and a sweet dream it was; but are you sure I 
laughed? 

Chris. Yes, you laughed heartily; but prithee, Mercy, tell me thy 
dream. 

Mercy. I was a-dreamed that I sat all alone in a solitary place, 
and was bemoaning of the hardness of my heart. Now, I had not 
sat there long, but methought many were gathered about me, to see 
me, and to hear what it was that I said. So they hearkened, and I 
went on bemoaning the hardness of my heart. At this, some of them 
laughed at me, some called me fool, and some began to thrust me 
about. With that methought I looked up, and saw one coming with 
wings towards me. So he came directly to me, and said, Mercy, 
what aileth thee ? Now, when he had heard me make my complaint, 
he said, "Peace be to thee." He also wiped mine eyes with his 
handkerchief, and clad me in silver and gold. He put a chain about 
my neck, and ear-rings in mine ears, and a beautiful crown upon my 
head.* Then he took me by the hand, and said, Mercy, come after 
me. So he went up, and I followed, till we came at a golden gate. 
Then he knocked; and when they within had opened, the man went 
in, and I followed him up to a throne, upon which one sat, and 
he said to me, Welcome, daughter. The place looked bright and 
twinkling, like the stars, or rather like the sun; and I thought that 
I saw your husband there. So I awoke from my dream. But did I 
laugh ? 

Chris. Laugh! ay, and well you might, to see yourself so well. 
For you must give me leave to tell you, that I believe it was a good 
dream; and that, as you have begun to find the first part true, so 
you shall find the second at last. " God speaketh once, yea, twice, 
yet man perceiveth it not. In a dream, in a vision of the night, 
when deep sleep falleth upon men, and slumberings upon the bed."t 
W T e need not, when a-bed, he awake to talk with God. He can 
visit us while we sleep, and cause us then to hear his voice. Our 

* Ezek. xvi. 8 — n. t Job xxxiii. 14, 15. 




PRUDENCE CATECHISES THE CHILDREN. P. 169. 




THE SHEPHERD BOY. P. l8o. 



PRUDENCE CATECHISES THE CHILDREN. 169 

heart ofttimes wakes when we sleep; and God can speak to that, 
either by words, by proverbs, by signs and similitudes, as well as if 
one was awake. « 

Mercy. Well, I am glad of my dream; for I hope, ere long, to 
see it fulfilled, to the making me laugh again. 

Chris. I think it is now high time to rise, and to know what we 
must do. 

Mercy. Pray, if they invite us to stay awhile, let us willingly 
accept the proffer. I am the willinger to stay awhile here, to 
grow better acquainted with these maids. Methinks Prudence, 
Piety, and Charity have very comely and sober countenances. 

Chris. We shall see what they will do. So w r hen they were up and 
ready, they came down, and they asked one another of their rest, 
and if it was comfortable or not. 

Mercy. Very good, said Mercy; it was one of the best night's 
lodgings that ever I had in my life. 

Then said Prudence and Piety, If you will be persuaded to stay 
here awhile, you shall have what the house will afford. 

Char. Ay, and that with a very good will, said Charity. So they 
consented and staid there about a month or above, and became very 
profitable one to another. And because Prudence would see how 
Christiana had brought up her children, she asked leave of her to 
catechise them. So she gave her free consent. Then she began at 
the youngest, whose name was James. 

Prudence. And she said, Come, James, canst thou tell me who 
made thee ? 

James. God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost. 

Prud. Good boy. And canst thou tell me who saves thee ? 

James. God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost. 

Prud. Good boy still. But how doth God the Father save thee ? 

James. By his grace. 

Prud. How doth God the Son save thee? 

James. By his righteousness, death, and blood, and life. 

Prud. And how doth God the Holy Ghost save thee ? 

James. By His illumination, by His renovation, and by His pre- 
servation. 

Then said Prudence to Christiana, You are to be commended for 
thus bringing up your children. I suppose I need not ask the rest 
these questions, since the youngest of them can answer them so well. 
I will therefore now apply myself to the next youngest. 

Prud. Then she said, Come, Joseph (for his name was Joseph), 
will you let me catechise you? 

Joseph. With all my heart. 



170 THE BOYS CATECHISED. 

PRUD. What is man? 

Joseph. A reasonable creature, so made by God, as my brother 
said. 

Prud. What is supposed by this word " saved?" 

Joseph. That man, by sin, has brought himself into a state of cap- 
tivity and misery. 

Prud. What is supposed by his being saved by the Trinity ? 

Joseph. That Sin is so great and mighty a tyrant, that none can 
pull us out of its clutches but God; and that God is so good and 
loving to man, as to pull him indeed out of this miserable state. 

Prud. What is God's design in saving of poor men ? 

Joseph. The glorifying of His name, of His grace and justice &c, 
and the everlasting happiness of His creature. 

Prud. Who are they that must be saved? 

Joseph. Those that accept of His salvation. 

Prud. Good boy, Joseph; thy mother has taught thee well, and 
thou hast hearkened to what she hath said unto thee. 

Then said Prudence to Samuel, who was the eldest but one, 

Prud. Come, Samuel, are you willing that I should catechise you 
also? 

Samuel. Yes, forsooth, if you please. 

Prud. What is heaven ? 

Sam. A place and state most blessed, because God dwelleth there. 

Prud. W r hat is hell? 

Sam. A place and state most woeful, because it is the dwelling- 
place of sin, the devil, and death. 

Prud. Why wouldest thou go to heaven? 

Sam. That I may see God, and serve Him without weariness; 
that I may see Christ, and love Hirn everlastingly; that I may have 
that fulness of the Holy Spirit in me that I can by no means here 
enjoy. 

Prud. A very good boy also, and one that has learned well. 

Then she addressed herself to the eldest, whose name was Mat- 
thew ; and she said to him, Come, Matthew, shall I also catechise 
you? 

Matthew. With a very good will. 

Prud. I ask, then, if there was ever anything that had a being 
antecedent to, or before God? 

Matt. No ; for God is eternal ; nor is there anything excepting 
himself, that had a being until the beginning of the first day. " For 
in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that in 
them is." 

Prud. What do you think of the Bible? 



MR. BE IS ITS COURTSHIP. 17* 

MATT. It is the holy Word of God. 

Prud. Is there nothing written therein but what you understand? 

Matt. Yes ; a great deal. 

Prud. What do you do when you meet with such places therein 
that you do not understand ? 

Matt. I think God is wiser than I. I pray also that he will please 
to let me know all therein that he knows will be for my good. 

Prud. How believe you as touching the resurrection of the 
dead? 

Matt. I believe they shall rise, the same that was buried : the 
same in nature, though not in corruption. And I believe this upon 
a double account : First, because God has promised it ; secondly, 
because he is able to perform it. 

Then said Prudence to the boys, You must still hearken to your 
mother, for she can learn you more. You must also diligently give 
ear to what good talk you shall hear from others ; for, for your sakes 
do they speak good things. Observe, also, and that with careful- 
ness, what the heavens and the earth do teach you; but especially 
be much in the meditation of that Book that was the cause of your 
father's becoming a pilgrim. I, for my part, my children, will teach 
you what I can while you are here, and shall be glad if you will ask 
me questions that tend to godly edifying. 

Now, by that these Pilgrims had been at this place a week, Mercy 
had a visitor that pretended some goodwill unto her, and his name was 
Mr. Brisk, a man of some breeding, and that pretended to religion; 
but a man that stuck very close to the world. So he came once or 
twice, or more, to Mercy, and offered love unto her. Now Mercy 
was of a fair countenance, and therefore the more alluring. 

Her mind also was, to be always busying of herself in doing; for 
when she had nothing to do for herself, she would be making of hose 
and garments for others, and would bestow them upon them that had 
need. And Mr. Brisk, not knowing where or how she disposed of 
what she had made, seemed to be greatly taken, for that he found 
her never idle. I will warrant her a good housewife, quoth he to 
himself. 

Mercy then revealed the business to the maidens that were of the 
house, and inquired of them concerning him, for they did know 
him better than she. So they told her, that he was a very busy 
young man, and one that pretended to religion; but was, as they 
feared, a stranger to the power of that which was good. 

Nay then, said Mercy, I will look no more on him; for I purpose 
never to have a clog to my soul. 

Prudence then replied that there needed no great matter of dis- 



ij2 MA TTHE W ILL. 

couragement to be given to him, her continuing so as she had begun 
to do for the poor, would quickly cool his courage. 

So the next time he comes, he finds her at her old work, a-making 
of things for the poor. Then said he, What ! always at it? Yes, said 
she, either for myself or for others. And what canst thou earn a-day ? 
quoth he. I do these things, said she, " that I may be rich in good 
works, laying up in store a good foundation against the time to 
come, that I may lay hold on eternal life."* Why, prithee, what 
dost thou with them ? Clothe the naked, said she. With that his 
countenance fell. So he forbore to come at her again : and when he 
was asked the reason why, he said, that Mercy was a pretty lass, but 
troubled with ill conditions. 

When he had left her, Prudence said, Did I not tell thee, that Mr. 

Brisk would soon forsake thee? yea, he will raise 

pracficcTof^nercy up an ill report of thee: for, notwithstanding his 

rejected; while pretence to religion, and his seeming love to Mercy, 

of m C ercy t 5 e ii ! Sd e yet Mercy and he are of tempers so different, that I 

believe they will never come together. 

Mercy. I might have had husbands afore now, though I spake 
not of it to any; but they were such as did not like my conditions, 
though never did any of them find fault with my person. So they 
and I could not agree. 

Prud. Mercy in our days is little set by, any further than as to its 
name ; the practice, which is set forth by thy conditions, there are few 
that can abide. 

Mercy. Well, said Mercy, if nobody will have me, I will die a maid, 
or my conditions shall be to me as a husband; for I cannot change 
my nature; and to have one that lies cross to me in this, that. I pur- 
pose never to admit of as long as I live. I had a sister named 
Bountiful, that was married to one of these churls; but he and she 
could never agree; but because my sister was resolved to do as she 
had begun, that is, to show kindness to the poor, therefore her hus- 
band first cried her down at the cross, and then turned her out of his 
doors. 

Prud. And yet he was a professor, I warrant you. 

Mercy. Yes, such a one as he was, and of such as he the world is 
now full; but I am for none of them all. 

Now Matthew, the eldest son of Christiana, fell sick, and his sick- 
ness was sore upon him, for he was much pained in his bowels, so that 
he was with it, at times, pulled as it were both ends together. There 
dwelt also not far from thence, one Mr. Skill, an ancient and well- 
approved physician. So Christiana desired it, and they sent for him, 

* i Tim. vi. 17—19. 



MA TTHE W PHYSICKED. 173 

and he came. When he was entered the room, and had a little ob- 
served the boy, he concluded that he was sick of the 
gripes. Then he said to his mother, What diet has sc ^g s of con " 
Matthew of late fed upon ? Diet ! said Christiana, 
nothing but that which is wholesome. The physician answered, This 
boy has been tampering with something that lies in his maw undi- 
gested, and that will not away without means. And I tell you, he 
must be purged, or else he will die. 

Sam. Then, said Samuel, Mother, mother, what was that which 
my brother did gather up and eat, so soon as we were come from 
the gate that is at the head of this way ? You know that there was 
an orchard on the left hand, on the other side of the wall, and some 
of the trees hung over the wall, and my brother did plash* and did eat. 

Chris. True, my child, said Christiana, he did take thereof, and 
did eat; naughty boy as he was, I did chide him, anji yet he would 
eat thereof. 

Skill. I knew he had eaten something that was not wholesome 
food, and that food, to wit, that fruit, is even the most hurtful of all. 
It is the fruit of Beelzebub's orchard. I do marvel that none did 
warn you of it; many have died thereof. 

Chris. Then Christiana began to cry; and she said, O naughty 
boy ! and O careless mother! What shall I do for my son? 

Skill. Come, do not be too much dejected; the boy may do well 
again, but he must purge and vomit. 

Chris. Pray, Sir, try the utmost of your skill with him, whatever 
it costs. 

Skill. Nay, I hope I shall be reasonable. So he made him a 
purge, but it was too weak; it was said, it was made p otion p re p ar ed. 
of the blood of a goat, the ashes of a heifer, and 
with some of the juice of hyssop, &c.t When Mr. Skill saw that his 
purge was too weak, he made him one to the purpose; 
it was made ex came et sanguine Christi.% (You Th borrow? * 
know physicians give strange medicines to their pa- 
tients.) And it was made up into pills, with a promise or two, and 
a proportionable quantity of sait.§ Now he was to take them three 
at a time fasting, in half a quarter of a pint of the tears of repentance. 
When this potion was prepared, and brought to the. boy, he was 
loath to take it, though torn with the gripes as if he should be pulled 
in pieces. Come, come, said the physician, you must take it. It 
goes against my stomach, said the boy.|| I must have you take it, 
said his mother. I shall vomit it up again, said the boy. Pray, Sir, 

* i. e., Shake. t Heb. x. i — 4. 

\ The flesh and blood of Christ. John vi. 54—57 ; Heb. ix. 14. 

\ Mark ix. 49. || Zech. xii. 10. 



174 MA TTHE W HEALED. 

said Christiana to Mr. Skill, how does it taste ? It has no ill taste, 
said the doctor ; and with that she touched one of the pills with the 
tip of her tongue. Oh, Matthew, said she, this potion is sweeter 
than honey. If thoulovest thy mother, if thou lovest thy brothers, if 
thou lovest Mercy, if thou lovest thy life, take it. So with much ado, 
after a short prayer for the blessing of God upon it, he took it, and it 
wrought kindly with him. It caused him to purge, it caused him to 
sleep and rest quietly; it put him into a fine heat and breathing 

A word ofGod sweat, and did quite rid him of his gripes. So in little 
in the hand of his time he got up, and walked about with a staff, and 
faith - would go from room to room, and talk with Prudence, 

Piety, and Charity of his distemper, and how he was healed. 

So when the boy was healed, Christiana asked Mr. Skill, saying, 
Sir, what will content you for your pains and care to and of my child? 
And he said, You must pay the Master of the College of Physicians, 
according to rules made in that case and provided.* 

Chris. But, Sir, said she, what is this pill good for else ? 

Skill. It is an universal pill; it is good against all the diseases 
that Pilgrims are incident to; and when it is well prepared, it will 
keep good, time out of mind. 

Chris. Pray, Sir, make me up twelve boxes of them: for if I can 
get these, I will never take other physic. 

Skill. These pills are good to prevent diseases, as well as to cure 
when one is sick. Yea, I dare say it, and stand to it, that if a man 
will but use this physic as he should, it will make him live for ever.f 

in a glass of But, ?°°d Christiana, thou must give these pills no 
the tears of re- other way but as I have prescribed ; for, if you do, 
pentance. t l ie y w jr[ ^ no good. So he gave unto Christiana 

physic for herself, and her boys, and for Mercy; and bid Matthew 
take heed how he eat any more green plums, and kissed them, and 
went his way. 

It was told you before, that Prudence bid the boys, that if at any 
time they would, they should ask her some questions that might be 
profitable, and she would say something to them. 

Matt. Then Matthew, who had been sick, asked her, Why, for 
the most part, physic should be bitter to our palates ? 

Prud. To show how unwelcome the Word of God, and the effects 
thereof, are to a carnal heart. 

Matt. Why does physic, if it does good, purge, and cause that 
we vomit ? 

Prud. To show that the Word, when it works effectually eleanseth 
the heart and mind. For look, what the one doth to the body, the 
other doth to the soul. 

♦ Heb. xiii. n— 16. t John vi. 50. 



MATTHEW'S QUESTIONS. 175 

MATT. What should we learn by seeing the flame of our fire go 
upwards ? and by seeing the beams and sweet influences of the sun 
strike downwards ? 

Prud. By the going up of the fire we are taught to ascend to 
heaven by fervent and hot desires; and by the sun sending his heat, 
beams, and sweet influences downwards, we are taught that the 
Saviour of the world, though high, reacheth down with his grace 
and love to us below. 

Matt. Where have the clouds their water ? 

Prud. Out of the sea. 

Matt. What may we learn from that ? 

Prud. That ministers should fetch their doctrine from God. 

Matt. Why do they empty themselves upon the earth ? 

Prud. To show that ministers should give out what they know of 
God to the world. 

Matt. Why is the rainbow caused by the sun ? 

Prud. To show that the covenant of God's grace is confirmed to 
us in Christ. 

Matt. Why do the springs come from the sea to us through the 
earth ? 

Prud. To show that the grace of God comes to us through the 
body of Christ. 

Matt. Why do some of the springs rise out of the tops of high hills? 

Prud. To show that the spirit of grace shall spring up in some 
that are great and mighty, as well as in many that are poor and low. 

Matt. Why doth the fire fasten upon the candlewick? 

Prud. To show that unless grace doth kindle upon the heart 
there will be no true light of life in us. 

Matt. Why is the wick and tallow, and all, spent to maintain 
the light of the candle ? 

Prud. To show that body and soul, and all, should be at the ser- 
vice of, and spend themselves to maintain, in good condition, that 
grace of God that is in us. 

Matt. Why doth the pelican pierce her own breast with her bill? 

Prud. To nourish her young ones with her blood, and thereby to 
show that Christ the blessed so loveth his young, his people, as to 
save them from death by his blood. 

Matt. What may one learn by hearing the cock crow? 

Prud. Learn to remember Peter's sin, and Peter's repentance. 
The cock's crowing shows also that day is coming on ; let then the 
crowing of the cock put thee in mind of that last and terrible day of 
judgment. 

Now, about this time their month was out ; wherefore they signi- 
fied to those of the house that it was convenient for them to up and 



176 PARABLES. 

be going. Then said Joseph to his mother, It is convenient that you 
forget not to send to the house of Mr. Interpreter, to pray him to 
grant that Mr. Great-heart should be sent unto us, 
The weak may t } ia j- ^ e ma y b e our conductor the rest of our way. 
strong to prayers. Good boy, said she, I had almost forgot. So she 
drew up a petition, and prayed Mr. Watchful, the 
Porter, to send it by some fit man, to her good friend Mr. Inter- 
preter ; who, when it was come, and he had seen the contents of 
the petition, said to the messenger, Go tell them that I will send 
him. 

When the family, where Christiana was, saw that they had a pur- 
pose to go forward, they called the # whole house together, to give 
thanks to their King for sending of them such profitable guests as 
these. Which done, they said to Christiana, And shall we not show 
thee something, according as our custom is to do to pilgrims, on 
which thou mayest meditate when thou art upon the way? So they 
took Christiana, her children, and Mercy into the closet, and 
showed them one of the apples that Eve did eat of, 
Eves apple. and ^^ ^ Q a]sQ dJd gjve tQ her j lusban( j | an d that 

for the eating of which they both were turned out of Paradise, and 
asked her what she thought that was? Then Chris- 

A sight of sin is tiana said, It is food or poison, 1 know not which. 
amazing. ^ q the y p enec } t ] ie ma tt er to her, and she held up 

her hands and wondered.* 

Then they had her to a place, and showed her Jacob's ladder. 
Now at that time there were some angels ascending 

jaco s a er. U p 0n j^ g Christiana looked, and looked, to see 
the angels go up ; and so did the rest of the. company. Then they 
were going into another place, to show them something else ; but 
James said to his mother, Pray bid them stay here a little longer, for 
this is a curious sight. So they turned again, and stood feeding their 
eyes with this so pleasant a prospect, t After this, they had them 
into a place where did hang up a golden anchor, so they bid Chris- 
tiana take it down ; for, said they, you shall have it with you, for it 
is of absolute necessity that you should, that you may lay hold of 
that within the veil, and stand stedfast, in case you should meet with 
turbulent weather; so they were glad thereof.:}: Then they took 
them, and had them to the mount upon which Abraham our father 
had offered up Isaac his son, and showed them the altar, the wood, 
the fire, and the knife, for they remain to be seen to this very day.§ 
When they had seen it, they held up their hands and blessed them- 

* Gen. iii. 6 ; Rom. vii. 24, t Gen. xxviii. 12; John i. 51. 

X Heb. vi. 19. i, Gen. xxii. 9. 




gtavt grim. — p. r65 



MR. GREAT-HEART RETURNS 177 

selves, and said, Oh, what a man for love to his Master, and for 
denial to himself, was Abraham ! After they had showed them all 
these things, Prudence took them into the dining-room, where stood 
a pair of excellent virginals ; so she played upon them, and turned 
what she had showed them into this excellent song, saying — 

" Eve's apple we have showed you, 
Of that be you aware ; 
You have seen Jacob's ladder, too, 
Upon which angels are. 

" An anchor you received have, 
But let not these suffice, 
Until, with Abr'am, you have gave 
Your best a sacrifice." 

Now, about this time, one knocked at the door; so the Porter 
opened, and behold Mr. Great-heart was there; but when he was 
come in, what joy was there ! For it came now fresh again into their 
minds, how but a while ago he had slain old Grim Bloody-man the 
giant, and had delivered them from the lions. 

Then said Mr. Great-heart to Christiana, and to Mercy, My Lord 
hath sent each of you a bottle of wine, and also some parched corn, 
together with a couple of pomegranates ; he has also sent the boys 
some figs and raisins, to refresh you in your way. 

Then they addressed themselves to their journey ; and Prudence 
and Piety went along with them. When they came at the gate, 
Christiana asked the Porter if any of late went by? He said, No; 
only one some time since, who also told me, that of late there had 
been a great robbery committed on the King's highway, as you go ; 
but, he said, the thieves are taken, and will shortly be tried for their 
lives. Then Christiana and Mercy were afraid ; but Matthew said, 
Mother, fear nothing, as long as Mr. Great-heart is to go with us, 
and to be our conductor. 

Then said Christiana to the Porter, Sir, I am much obliged to you 

for all the kindnesses that you have showed me since I came hither; 

and also for that you have been so loving and kind to my children ; 

I know not how to gratify your kindness. Wherefore, pray, as a 

token of my respects to you, accept of this small mile ; so she put a 

I gold angel in his hand, and he made her a low obeisance, and said, 

Let thy garments be always white, and let thy head want no oint- 

I ment. Let Mercy live, and not die, and let not her works be few. 

And to the boys he said, Do you fly youthful lusts, and follow after 

godliness with them that are grave and wise ; so shall you put glad- 

ness into your mother's heart, and obtain praise of all that are sober- 

I minded. So they thanked the Porter, and departed. 

Now I saw in my dream, that they went forward until they were 

'N 



178 VALLE Y OF HUM! LI A TION. 

come to the brow of the hill, where Piety, bethinking herself, cried 
out, Alas i I have forgot what I intended to bestow upon Christiana 
and her companions ; I will go back and fetch it. So she ran and 
fetched it. While she was gone, Christiana thought she neard in a 
grove, a little way off, on the right hand, a most curious melodious 
note, with words much like these— 

" Through all my life thy favour is 
So frankly show'd to me, 
That in thy house for evermore 
My dwelling-place shall be." 

And, listening still, she thought she heard another answer it, 
saying— 

" For why ? The Lord our God is good, 
His mercy is for ever sure. 
His truth at all times firmly stood. 
And shall from age to age endure." 

So Christiana asked Prudence what it was that made those curious 
notes ? They are, said she, our country birds ; they sing these notes 
but seldom, except it be at the spring, when the flowers appear, and 
the sun shines warm, and then you may hear them all day long.* I 
often, said she, go out to hear them ; we also ofttimes keep them 
tame in our house. They are very fine company for us when we are 
melancholy; also they make the woods, and groves, and solitary 
places, places desirous to be in. 

By this time Piety was come again ; so she said to Christiana, 
Look here, I have brought thee a scheme of all those things that 
thou hast seen at our house, upon which thou mayest look when thou 
findest thyself forgetful, and call those things again to remembrance 
for thy edification and comfort. 

Now they began to go down the hill into the Valley of Humilia- 
tion. It was a steep hill, and the way was slippery ; but they were 
very careful, so they got down pretty well. When they were down 
in the Valley, Piety said to Christiana, This is the place where Chris- 
tian your husband met with the foul fiend Apollyon, and where 
they had that dreadful fight that they had ; I know you cannot but 
have heard thereof. But be of good courage ; as long as you have 
here Mr. Great-heart to be your guide and conductor, we hope you 
will fare the better. So when these two had committed the Pilgrims 
unto the conduct of their guide, he went forward, and they < 
after. 

Great-heart. Then said Mr. Great-heart, We need not to be so 
afraid of this Valley, for here is nothing to hurt us, unless we pro- 
cure it to ourselves. It is true, Christian did here meet with Apol- 

* Can. ii. n, 12. 



ITS LILIES. 179 

lyon, with whom he also had a sore combat ; but that fray was the 
fruit of those slips that he got in his going down the hill ; for they that 
get slips there, must look for combats here. And hence it is that 
this Valley has got so hard a name ; for the common people, when 
they hear that some frightful thing has befallen such a one in such a 
place, are of an opinion, that that place is haunted with some foul 
fiend or evil spirit ; when, alas ! it is for the fruit of their doing, that 
such things do befall them there. 

This Valley of Humiliation is of itself as fruitful a place as any the 
crow flies over ; and I am persuaded, if we could hit upon it, we might 
find somewhere hereabouts, something that might give us an account 
why Christian was so hardly beset in this place. 

Then James said to his mother, Lo, yonder stands a pillar, and it 
looks as if something was written thereon ; let us go and see what it 
is. So they went, and found there written, ' ' Let Christian's slips, 
before he came hither, and the battles that he met with in this place, 
be a warning to those that come after. " Lo, said their guide, did not 
I tell you that there was something hereabouts that would give intima- 
tion of the reason why Christian was so hard beset in this place ? 
Then turning himself to Christiana, he said, No disparagement to 
Christian, more than to many others whose hap and lot his was ; for 
it is easier going up, than down this bill, and that can be said but of 
few hills in all these parts of the world. But we will leave the good 
man, he is at rest, he also had a brave victory over his enemy ; let 
Him grant that dwelleth above, that we fare no worse, when we come 
to be tried, than he. 

But we will come again to this Valley of Humiliation. It is the 
best and most useful piece of ground in all those parts. It is fat 
ground,' and, as you see, consisteth much in meadows; and if a man' 
was to come here in the summer-time, as we do now, if he knew not 
anything before thereof, and if he also delighted himself in the sight 
of his eyes, he might see that that would be delightful to him. 
Behold how green this Valley is, also how beautified with lilies.* I 
have also known many labouring men that have got good estates in 
this Valley of Humiliation ( "for God resisteth the proud, but gives 
more, more grace unto the humble, ")t for indeed it is Men thrive in 
a very fruitful soil, and doth bring forth by handfuls. the yalley of Hu- 
Some also have wished that the next way to their imhatl ° u - 
Father's house were here, that they might be troubled no more with 
either hills or mountains to go over, but the way is the way, and 
there is an end. 

Now, as they were going along, and talking, they espied a boy 

* Can. ii. 1. t James iv. 6 ; 1 Peter v. 5. , 

N 2 



180 THE SHEPHERD'S BOY. 

feeding his father's sheep. The boy was in very mean clothes, but of 
a very fresh and well-favoured countenance; and as he sat by himself, 
he sang. Hark, said Mr. Great-heart, to what the shepherd's boy 
saith. So they hearkened, and he said — 

"He that is down needs fear no fall ; 
He that is low, no pride ; 
He that is humble, ever shall 
Have God to be his guide* 

" I am content with what I have, 
Little be it, or much : 
And, Lord, contentment still I crave, 
Because thou savest such. 

" Fullness to such, a burden is, 
That go on pilgrimage ; 
Here little, and hereafter bliss, 
Is best from age to age."t 

Then said the guide, Do you hear him ? I will dare to say, that 
this boy lives a merrier life, and wears more of that herb called 
heart's-ease in his bosom, than he that is clad in si!k and velvet; but 
we will proceed in our discourse. 

In this Valley our Lord formerly had his country-house; he loved 
much to be here ; he loved also to walk these meadows, for he found the 
air was pleasant. Besides, here a man shall be free from the noise, and 
from the hurryingsof this life. All states are full of noise and confusion, 
only the Valley of Humiliation is that empty and solitary place. Here 
a man shall not be so let and hindered in his contemplation, as in other 
places he is apt to be. This is a Valley that nobody walks in but those 
that love a pilgrim's life. And though Christian had the hard hap 
to meet here with Apollyon, and to enter with him a brisk encounter, 
yet I must tell you, that in former times men have met with angels 
here, have found pearls here, and have in this place found the words 
of life. % 

Did I say, Our Lord had here in former days his country-house, 
and that he loved here to walk ? I will add, in this place, and to the 
people that live, and trace these grounds, he has left a yearly revenue, 
to be faithfully paid them at certain seasons, for their maintenance 
by the way, and for their further encouragement to go on in their 
pilgrimage.§ 

Samuel. Now, as they went on, Samuel said to Mr. Great-heart, 
Sir, I perceive that in this Valley my father and Apollyon had their 
battle , but whereabout was the fight ? for I perceive this Valley is large. 

Great-heart. Your father had that battle with Apollyon at a 
place yonder before us, in a narrow passage just beyond Forgetful 
Green. And indeed, that place is the most dangerous plaee in all 

• Phil. iv. 12, 13. t Heb. xi.i. 5. X Hos. xii. 4, 5. $ Matt. xi. 29. 



MEMORIALS OF CHRISTIAN. 181 

these parts. For if at any time the pilgrims meet with any brunt, it 
is when they forget what favours they have received, and how un- 
worthy they are of them. This is the place also where others have 
been hard put to it; but more of the place when we are come to it; 
for I persuade myself, that to this day there remains either some sign 
of the battle, or some monument to testify that such a battle there 
was fought. 

Mercy. Then said Mercy, I think I am as well in this Valley as 1 
have been anywhere else in all our journey; the place, methinks, suits 
with my spirit. I love to be in such places where 
there is no rattling with coaches, nor rumbling with swe etgrace! 
wheels ; methinks, here one may, without much mo- 
lestation, be thinking what he is, whence he came, what he has done, 
and to what the King has called him; here one may think, and break 
at heart, and melt in one's spirit, until one's eyes become like " the 
fish-pools of Heshbon."* They that go rightly through this Valley 
of Baca, make it a well, the rain that God sends down from heaven 
upon them that are here, also filleth the pools, t This Valley is that 
from whence also the King will give to his their vineyards, J and they 
that go through it shall sing, as Christian did, for all he met with 
Apollyon. 

Great-heart. It is true, said their guide, I have gone through 
this Valley many a time, and never was better than when here. 

I have also been a conductor to several pilgrims, and they have 
confessed the same. " To this man will I look (saith the King), even 
to him that is poor and of a contrite spirit, and trembleth at my 
word."§ 

Now they were come to the place where the afore-mentioned 
battle was fought. Then said the guide to Christiana, her children, 
and Mercy, This is the place, on this ground Christian stood, and 
up there came Apollyon against him. And look, did not I tell you? 
Here is some of your husband's blood upon these stones to this day; 
behold, also, how here and there are yet to be seen upon the place, 
some of the shivers of Apollyon's broken darts; see also how they 
did beat the ground with their feet as they fought, to make good 
their places against each other; how also, with their by-blows, they 
did split the very stones in pieces. Verily, Christian did here play 
the man, and showed himself as stout, as could, had he been there, 
even Hercules himself. When Apollyon was beat, he made his 
retreat to the next valley, that is called the Valley of the Shadow of 
Death, unto which we shall come anon. 

* Can. vii. 4. t Psa. lxxxiv. 6, 7. % Hos. ii. 15. 

§ Isa. lxvi. 2. 



182 THE SHADO W OF DBA 777. 

Lo, yonder also stands a monument, on which is engraven this 
battle, and Christian's victory, to his fame throughout all ages. So, 
because it stood just on the wayside before them, they stepped to it, 
and read the writing, which word for word was this — 

" Hard by, here was a battle fought, 

Most strange, and yet most true ; 
Christian and Apollyon sought 

Each other to subdue. 
The man ^o bravely play'd the man, 

He made the liend to fly ; 
Of which a monument I btand. 

The same to testify." 

When they had passed by this place, they came upon the borders 
of the Shadow of Death; and this Valley was longer than the other; 
a place also, most strangely haunted with evil things, as many are 
able to testify, but these women and children went the better through 
it because they had daylight, and because Mr. Great-heart was their 
conductor. 

When they were entered upon this Valley, they thought that they 
heard a groaning, as of dead men, [i.e., dying men], a very great 
groaning. They thought, also, they did hear words of lamentation 
spoken, as of some in extreme torment. These things made the 
boys to quake, the women also looked pale and wan ; but their guide 
bid them be of good comfort. 

So they went on a little further, and they thought that they felt 
the ground begin to shake under them, as if some hollow place 
was there; they heard also a kind of hissing, as of serpents, but 
nothing as yet appeared. Then said the boys, Are we not yet at the 
end of this doleful place ? But the guide also bid them be of good 
courage, and look well to their feet, lest haply, said he, you be taken 
in some snare. 

Now James began to be sick, but I think the cause thereof was fear; 
so his mother gave him some of that glass of spirits that she had 
given her at the Interpreter's house, and three of the pills that Mr. 
Skill had prepared, and the boy began to revive. Thus they went 
on till they came to about the middle of the Valley, and then Chris- 
tiana said, Methmks I see something yonder upon the road before 
us, a thing of such a shape such as I have not seen. Then said 
Joseph, Mother, what is it? An ugly thing, child; an ugly thing, 
said she. But, mother, what is it like? said he. It is like I cannot 
tell what, said she. And now it was but a little way off; then said 
she, It is nigh. 

Well, well, said Mr. Great-heart, Let them that are most afraid 
keep close to me. So the fiend came on, and the conductor met it; 



HORRORS BY THE WAY. 183, 

but when it was just come to him, it vanished to all their sights. 
Then remembered they what had been said some time ago, ' ' Resist 
the devil, and he will flee from you."* 

They went therefore on, as being a little refreshed; but they had 
not gone far before Mercy, looking behind her, saw, as she thought, 
something most like a lion, and it came a great padding pace after; 
and it had a hollow voice of roaring; and at every roar that it gave, 
it made all the Valley echo, and their hearts to ache, save the heart 
of him that was their guide. So it came up; and Mr. Great-heart 
went behind, and put the Pilgrims all before him. The lion also 
came on apace, and Mr. Great-heart addressed himself to give him 
battle. But when he saw that it was determined that resistance should 
be made, he also drew back, and came no further.! 

Then they went on again, and their conductor did go before them, 
till they came at a place where was cast up a pit the whole breadth 
of the way ; and before they could be prepared to go over that, a 
great mist and darkness fell upon them, so that they could not see. 
Then said the Pilgrims, Alas! now what shall we do? But their 
guide made answer, Fear not, stand still, and see what an end will 
be put to this also. So they stayed there because their path was 
marred. They then also thought that they did hear more ap- 
parently the noise and rushing of the enemies; the fire also, and the 
smoke of the pit, was much easier to be discerned. Then said Chris- 
tiana to Mercy, Now I see what my poor husband went through; I 
have heard much of this place, but I never was here before now. 
Poor man, he went here all alone in the night; he had night almost 
quite through the way; also these fiends were busy about him, as if 
they would have torn him in pieces. Many have spoken of it, but 
none can tell what the Valley of the Shadow of Death should mean 
until they come in it themselves. "The heart knows its own bitter- 
ness, and a stranger intermeddleth not with its joy." To be herejs 
a fearful thing. 

GREAT-HEART. This is like doing business in great waters, or 
like going clown into the deep; this is like being in the heart of the 
sea, and like going down to the bottoms of the mountains; now it 
seems as if the earth, with its bars, were about us for ever. But let 
them that walk in darkness, and have no light, trust in the name of 
the Lord, and stay upon their God.J For my part, as I have told 
you already, I have gone often through this Valley, and have been 
much harder put to it than now I am, and yet you see I am alive. 
I would not boast, for that 1 am not mine own saviour; but I trust 
we shall have a good deliverance. Come, let us pray for light to 
* James iv. 7. ti Peter v. 8, 9, % isa. 1.. 10. 



i3 4 MAUL, THE GIANT. 

him that can lighten our darkness, and that can rebuke not only 
these, but all the Satans in hell. 

So they cried and prayed, and God sent light and deliverance, for 
there was now no let in their way; no not there, where but now they 
were stopped with a pit. Yet they were not got through the Valley; 
so they went on still, and behold great stinks and loathsome smells, 
to the great annoyance of them. Then said Mercy to Christiana, 
There is not such pleasant being here as at the gate, or at the Inter- 
preter's, or at the house where we lay last. 

Oh, but, said one of the boys, it is not so bad to go through here 
as it is to abide here always; and for aught I know, one reason why 
we must go this way to the house prepared for us is, that our home 
might be made the sweeter to us. 

Well said, Samuel, quoth the guide, thou hast now spoke like a 
man. Why, if ever I get out here again, said the boy, I think I 
shall prize light and good way better than ever I did in all my life. 
Then said the guide, We shall be out by-and-by. 

So on they went, and Joseph said, Cannot we see to the end of 
this Valley as yet? Then said the guide, Look to your feet, for you 
shall presently be among the snares. So they looked to their feet, 
and went on; but they were troubled much with the snares. Now, 
when they were come among the snares, they espied a man cast into 
the ditch on the left hand, with his flesh all rent and torn. Then 
said the guide, That is one Heedless, that was agoing this way; he 
has lain there a great while. There was one Takeheed with him, 
when he was taken and slain; but he escaped their hands. You 
cannot imagine how many are killed hereabout, and yet men are so 
foolishly venturous as to set out lightly on pilgrimage, and to come 
without a guide. Poor Christian ! it was a wonder that he here 
escaped; but he was beloved of his God : also, he had a good heart 
of his own, or else he could never have done it. Now they drew to- 
wards the end of the way; and just there where Christian had seen the 
cave when he went by, out thence came forth Maul, a giant. This 
Maul did use to spoil young pilgrims with sophistry; and he called 
Great-heart by his name, and said unto him, How many times have 
you been forbidden to do these things ? Then said Mr. Great-heart, 
What things? What things? quoth the giant; you know what things; 
but I will put an end to your trade. But pray, said Mr. Great- 
heart, before we fall to it, let us understand wherefore we must right. 
Now the women and children stood trembling, and knew not what 
to do. Quoth the giant, you rob the country, and rob it with the 
worst of thefts. These are but generals, said Mr. Great-heart; come 
to particulars, man. 




T,D HONEST. r. l86. 




FEEBLE-MIND AND READY-TO-HALT P. 20;. 



GREA T-HEAR T FIGHTS HIM. 185 

Then said the giant, Thou practisest the craft' of a kidnapper; thou 
gatherest up women and children, and earnest them into a strange 
country, to the weakening of my master's kingdom. But now 
Great-heart replied, I am a servant of the God of heaven; my busi- 
ness is to persuade sinners to repentance; I am commanded to do my 
endeavour to turn men, women, and children "from darkness to 
light, and from the power of Satan unto God;" and if this be 
indeed the ground of thy quarrel, let us fall to it as soon as thou 
wilt. 

Then the giant came up, and Mr. Great-heart went to meet him; 
and as he went, he drew his sword, but the giant had a club. So 
without more ado, they fell to it, and at the first blow the giant 
struck Mr. Great-heart down upon one of his knees; with that the 
women and children cried out; so Mr. Great-heart 
recovering himself, laid about him in full lusty man- Weak folks' 
ner, and gave the giant a wound in his arm; thus he P™ye r * c f°™™f' 
fought for the space of an hour, to that height of foil" cries.^ r ° U ^ 
heat, that the breath came out of the giant's nostrils, 
as the heat doth out of a boiling caldron. 

Then they sat down to rest them, but Mr. Great-heart betook him 
to prayer; also the women and children did nothing but sigh and cry 
all the time that the battle did last. 

When they had rested them, and taken breath, they both fell to it 
again, and Mr. Great-heart, with a full blow, fetched the giant down 
to the ground. Nay, hold, and let me recover, quoth he; so Mr. 
Great-heart fairly let him get up. So to it they went again, and the 
giant missed but little of all-to-breaking Mr. Great-heart's skull with 
his club. 

Mr. Great-heart seeing that, runs to him in the full heat of his 
spirit, and pierceth him under the fifth rib; with that the giant began 
to faint, and could hold up his clab no longer. Then Mr. Great- 
heart seconded his blow, and smote the head of the giant from his 
shoulders. Then the women and children rejoiced, and Mr. Great- 
heart also praised God for the deliverance he had wrought. 

When this was done, they among them erected a pillar, and 
fastened the giant's head thereon, and wrote underneath in letters, 
that passengers might read — 

" He that did wear this head, was one 

That pilgrims did misuse ; 
He stopp'd their way, he spared none, 

But did them all abuse ; 
Until that I, Great-heart, arose, 

The pilgrim's guide to be ; 
Until that I did him oppose, 

That was their enemy." 



i36 MR. HONEST ASLEEP. 

Now I saw, that they went to the ascent that was a little way off, 
cast up to be a prospect for pilgrims (that was the place from whence 
Christian had the first sight of Faithful his brother); wherefore here 
they sat down, and rested; they also here did eat and drink, and 
make merry, for that they had gotten deliverance from this so dan- 
gerous an enemy. As they sat thus, and did eat, Christiana asked 
the guide if he had caught no hurt in the battle. Then said Mr. 
Great-heart, No, save a little on my flesh; yet that also shall be so 
far from being to my detriment, that it is at present a proof of my 
love to my Master and you, and shall be a means, by grace, to in- 
crease my reward at last.* 

Chris. But was you not afraid, good Sir, when you saw him come 
out with his club ? 

Great-heart. It is my duty, said he, to distrust my own 
ability, that I may have reliance on him that is stronger than all. 

Chris. But what did you think when he fetched you down to the 
ground at the first blow ? 

Great-heart. Why, I thought, quoth he, that so my Master 
himself was served, and yet he it was that conquered at the last. 

Matt. When you all have thought what you please, I think God 
has been wonderful good unto us, both in bringing us out of this 
valley, and in delivering us out of the hand of this enemy; for my 
part, I see no reason why we should distrust our God any more, since 
he has now, and in such a place as this, given us such testimony of 
his Jove as this. 

Then they got up and went forward. Now a little before them 
stood an oak; and under it, when they came to it, they found an old 
pilgrim fast asleep; they knew that he was a pilgrim by his clothes, 
and his staff, and his girdle. 

So the guide, Mr. Great-heart, awaked him, and the old gentle- 
man, as he lift up his eyes, cried out, What's the matter? Who are 
you? and what is your business here? 

Great-heart. Come, man, be not so hot, here are none but 
friends : yet the old man gets up, and stands upon his guard, and 
will know of them what they were. Then said the guide, My name 
is Great-heart; I am the guide of these pilgrims, which are going to 
the Celestial Country. 

Honest. Then said Mr. Honest, I cry you mercy; I feared that 
you had been of the company of those that some 

One saint some- time ago did rob Little-faith of his money; but now 
SerforhS ene- I look better about me, I perceive you are honester 
my. people. 

* a Cor. iv 



HE COMES FROM STUPIDITY. 187 

Great-heart. Why, what would, or could you have done, to 
have helped yourself, if we indeed had been of that company? 

Hon. Done ! why I "would have fought as long as breath had been 
in me ; and had I so done, I am sure you could never have given me 
the worst on it; for a Christian can never be overcome, unless he 
should yield of himself. 

Great-heart. Well said, father Honest, quoth the guide; for 
l)y this I know thou art a cock of the right kind, for thou hast said 
the truth. 

Hon. And by this also I know that thou knowe'st what true 
pilgrimage is; for all others do think that we are the soonest over- 
come of any. 

Great-heart. Well, now we are so happily met, pray let me 
crave your name, and the name of the place you came from. 

Hon. My name I cannot; but I came from the town of Stupidity; 
it lieth about four degrees beyond the City of Destruction. 

Great-heart. Oh ! are you that countryman, then ? I deem I 
have half a guess of you: your name is Old Honesty, is it not? So 
the old gentleman blushed, and said, Not Honesty in the abstract, 
but Honest is my name; and I wish that my nature shall agree to 
what I am called. 

Hon. But, Sir, said the old gentleman, how could you guess that 
I am such a man, since I came from such a place ? 

Great-heart. I had heard of you before,, by my Master; for 
he knows all things that are done on the earth; but I 
have often wondered that any should come from your ^^^^t^ 
place, for your town is worse than is the City of De- merely carnai.° Se 
struction itself. 

Hon. Yes, we lie more off from the sun, and so are more cold and 
senseless; but was a man in a mountain of ice, yet if the Sun of 
Righteousness will arise upon him, his frozen heart shall feel a thaw; 
and thus it hath been with me. 

Great-heart. I believe it, father Honest, I believe it; for I know 
the thing is true. 

Then the old gentleman saluted all the Pilgrims with a holy kiss 
of charity; and asked them of their names, and how they had fared 
since they set out on their pilgrimage. 

Chris. Then said Christiana, My name, I suppose, you have 
heard of ; good Christian was my husband, and these four were his 
children. But can you think how the old gentleman was taken, when 
she told him who she was ! He skipped, he smiled, and blessed them 
with a thousand good wishes, saying : 

Hon. I have heard much of your husband, and of his travels and 



i88 ACCOUNT OF MR. FEARING. 

wars, which he underwent in his days. Be it spoken to your com- 
fort, the name of your husband rings over all these parts of the 
world : his faith, his courage, his enduring, and his sincerity under 
all, has made his name famous. Then he turned him to the boys, 
and asked them of their names, which they told him. And then 
said he unto them : Matthew, be thou like Matthew the publican, 
not in vice, but in virtue.* Samuel, said he, be thou like Samuel the 
prophet, a man of faith and prayer. t Joseph, said he, be thou like 
Joseph in Potiphar's house, chaste, and one that flies from tempta- 
tion. % And James, be thou like James the Just, and like James the 
brother of our Lord.§ Then they told him of Mercy, and how she 
had left her town and her kindred to come along with Christiana and 
with her sons. At that the old honest man said, Mercy is thy name; 
by Mercy shalt thou be sustained, and carried through all those 
difficulties that shall assault thee in thy way, till thou shalt come 
thither, where thou shalt look the Fountain of Mercy in the face with 
comfort. 

All this while the guide, Mr. Great-heart, was very much pleased, 
and smiled upon his companion. 

Now, as they walked along together, the guide asked the old gen- 
tleman, if he did not know one Mr. Fearing, that came on pilgri- 
mage out of his parts ? 

Hon. Yes, very well, said he. He was a man that had the root 
of the matter in him; but he was one of the most troublesome pil- 
grims that ever I met with in all my days. 

Great-heart. I perceive you knew him; for you have given a 
very right character of him. 

Hon. Knew him ! I was a great companion of his; I was with 
him most an end; when he first began to think of what would come 
upon us hereafter, I was with him. 

Great-heart. I was his guide from my Master's house to the 
gates of the Celestial City. 

Hon. Then you knew him to be a troublesome one. 

Great-heart. I did so, but I could very* well bear it; for men of 
my calling are oftentimes intrusted with the conduct of such as he was. 

Hon. Well then, pray let us hear a little of him, and how he ma- 
naged himself under your conduct. 

Great-heart. Why, he was always afraid that he should come 
short of whither he had a desire to go. Everything frightened him 
that he heard anybody speak of, that had but the least appearance 
of opposition in it. I hear that he lay roaring at the Slough of 
Despond for about a month together; nor durst he, for all he saw 

* Matt. x. $. t Psa. xcix. 6. J Gen. xxxix. G Acts i. 13, 14. 



A TIMID BELIEVER. r&9 

several go over before him, venture, though they, many of them, 
offered to lend him their hand. He would not go back again neither. 
The Celestial City, he said, he should die if he came not to it; and 
yet was dejected at every difficulty, and stumbled at every straw that 
anybody cast in his way. Well, after he had lain at the Slough of 
Despond a great while, as I have told you, one sunshine morning, I 
do not know how, he ventured, and so got over; but when he was . 
over, he would scarce believe it. He had, I think, a Slough of 
Despond in his mind; a slough that he carried everywhere with him-, 
or else he could never have been as he was. So he came up to the 
gate, you know what I mean, that stands at the head of this way; 
and there also he stood a good while before he would adventure to 
knock. When the gate was opened, he would give back, and give place 
to others, and say that he was not worthy. For, for all he got before 
some to the gate, yet many of them went in before him. There the 
poor man would stand, shaking and shrinking. I dare say it would 
have pitied one's heart to have seen him ; nor would he go back 
again. At last he took the hammer that hanged on the gate in his 
hand, and gave a small rap or two; then one opened to him, but he 
shrank back as before. He that opened stepped out after him, and 
said, Thou trembling one, what wantest thou? With that he fell down 
to the ground. He that spoke to him wondered to see him so faint. 
So he said to him, Peace be to thee; up, for I have set open the door 
to thee. Come in, for thou art blessed. With that he got up, and went 
in trembling; and when he was in, he was ashamed to show his face. 
Well, after he had been entertained there awhile, as you know how 
the manner is, he was bid go on his way, and also told the way he 
should take. So he went on till he came to our house. But as he be- 
haved himself at the gate, so he did at my master the Interpreter's 
door. He lay there about in the cold a good while, before he would 
adventure to call; yet he would not go back, and the nights were long 
and cold then. Nay, he had a note of necessity in his bosom to my 
master, to receive him and grant him the comfort of his house, and also 
to allow him a stout and valiant conductor, because he was himself 
so chicken-hearted a man; and yet, for all that, he was afraid to call 
at the door. So he lay up and down thereabouts till, poor man ! 
he was almost starved. Yea, so great was his dejection, that though 
he saw several others, for knocking, get in, yet he was afraid to ven- 
ture. At last, I think I looked out of the window, and perceiving a 
man to be up and down about the door, I went out to him, and asked 
what he was; but, poor man ! the water stood in his eyes; so I per- 
ceived what he wanted. I went therefore in and told it in the 
house, and we showed the thing to our Lord. So he sent me out 



i 9 o FEARING'S SHYNESS. 

again, to entreat him to come ; but I dare say I had hard work to 
do it. At last he came in; and I will say that for my Lord, he carried 
it wonderfully lovingly to him. There were but few good bits at the 
table, but some of it was laid upon his trencher. Then he presented 
the note, and my Lord looked thereon, and said his desire should be 
granted. So when he had been there a good while, he seemed to 
get some heart, and to be a little more comfortable; for my master, 
you must know, is one of very tender bowels, especially to them that 
are afraid; wherefore he carried it so towards him as might tend most 
to his encouragement. Well, when he had had a sight of the things 
of the place, and was ready to take his journey to go to the city, my 
Lord, as he did to Christian before, gave him a bottle of spirits, and 
some comfortable things to eat. Thus we set forward, and I went be- 
fore him ; but the man was but of few words, only he would sigh aloud. 

When we were come to where the three fellows were hanged, he 
said that he doubted that that would be his end also. Only he seemed 
glad when he saw the Cross and the Sepulchre. There, I confess, 
he desired to stay a little to look, and he seemed for a while after to 
be a little cheery. When we came at the Hill Difficulty, he made no 
stick at that, nor did he much fear the lions; for you must know that 
his trouble was not about such things as those; his fear was about his 
acceptance at last. 

I got him in at the House Beautiful, I think, before he was willing. 
Also, when he was in, I brought him acquainted with the damsels 
that were of the place; but he was ashamed to make himself much 
for company. He desired much to be alone, yet he always loved 
good talk, and often would get behind the screen to hear it. He also 
loved much to see ancient things, and to be pondering them in his 
mind. He told me afterwards that he loved to be in those two houses 
from which he came last, to wit, at the gate, and that of the Inter- 
preter, but that he durst not be so bold to ask. 

When we went also from the House Beautiful, down the hill, into 
the Valley of Humiliation, he went down as well as ever 1 saw man 
in my life; for he cared not how mean he was, so he might be happy 
at last. Yea, I think there was a kind of a sympathy betwixt that 
valley and him; for I never saw him better in all his pilgrimage than 
when he was in that valley. 

Here he would lie down, embrace the ground, and kiss the very 
flowers that grew in this valley.* He would now be up every morn- 
ing by break of day, tracing and walking to and fro in this valley. 

But when he was come to the entrance of the Valley of the Shadow 
of Death, I thought I should have lost my man; not for that he had 

* Lam. iii. 27 — 29. 



THE BASS NOTE OF THE SOUL. 191 

any inclination to go back; that he always abhorred; but he was 
ready to die for fear. Oh! the hobgoblins will have me ! the hob- 
goblins will have me ! cried he, and I could not beat him out on it. 
He made such a noise and such an outcry here, that, had they but 
heard him, it was enough to encourage them to come and tali upon us. 
But this I took very great notice of, that this valley was as quiet 
while he went through it, as ever I knew it before or since. I suppose 
these enemies here had now a special check from our Lord, and a 
command not to meddle until Mr. Fearing was passed over it. 

It would be too tedious to tell you of all. We will, therefore, only 
mention a passage or two more. When he was come at Vanity Fair, 
I thought he would have fought with all the men at the fair. I feared 
there we should both have been knocked on the head, so hot was he 
against their fooleries. Upon the Enchanted Ground he was also 
very wakeful. But when he was come at the river, where was no 
bridge, there again he was in a heavy case. Now, now, he said, he 
should be drowned for ever, and so never see that face with comfort 
that he had come so many miles to behold. 

And here, also, I took notice of what was very remarkable ; the 
water of that river was lower at this time than ever I saw it in all my 
life. So he went over at last, not much above wet-shod. When he 
was going up to the gate, Mr. Great-heart began to take his leave of 
him, and to wish him a good reception above. So he said, I shall, 
I shall. Then parted we asunder, and I saw him no more. 
Hon. Then, it seems, he was well at last. 

Great-heart. Yes, yes ; I never had doubt about him ; he was 
a man of a choice spirit, only he was always kept very low, and that 
made his life so burdensome to himself, and so troublesome to 
others.* He was, above many, tender of sin. He was so atraid of 
doing injuries to others, that he often would deny himself of that 
which was lawful, because he would not offend, t 

Hon. But what should be the reason that such a good man should 
be all his days so much in the dark ? 

Great-heart. There are two sorts of reasons for it : One is, the 
wise God will have it so ; some must pipe and some 
must weep. J Now Mr. Fearing was one that played ^ e ^ ons why 
upon this bass ; he and his fellows sound the sackbut, mthe^ark!^ S ° 
whose notes are more doleful than the notes of other 
music are ; though, indeed, some say the bass is the ground of 
music. And, for my part, I care not at all for that profession that 
begins not in heaviness of mind. The first string that the musician 
usually touches is the bass, when he intends to put all in tune. God 

* Psa. Lxxxviii. t Rom. xiv. 21 ; 1 Cor. viii. 13. J Matt. xi. 16 — 18. 



192 KO FEARS— NO GRACE. 

also plays upon this string first, when he sets the soul in tune for 
himself. Only here was the imperfection of Mr. Fearing, he could 
play upon no other music but this, till towards his latter end. 

I make bold to talk thus metaphorically, for the ripening of the 
wits of young readers ; and because in the book of the Revelation, 
the saved are compared to a company of musicians that play upon 
their trumpets and harps, and sing their songs before the throne.* 

Hon. He was a very zealous man, as one may see by what rela- 
tion you have given of him ; difficulties, lions, or Vanity Fair, he 
feared not at all. It was only sin, death, and hell that was to him a 
terror, because he had some doubts about his interest in that celestial 
country. 

Great-heart. You say right. Those were the things that were 
his troublers, and they, as you have well observed, arose from the 
weakness of his mind thereabout, not from weakness of spirit as to 
the practical part of a pilgrim's life. I dare believe that, as the pro- 
verb is, " he could have bit a firebrand, had it stood in his way;" 
but the things with which he was oppressed, no man ever yet could 
shake off with ease. 

Chris. Then said Christiana, This relation of Mr. Fearing has 
done me good. I thought nobody had been like me ; but I see there 
was some semblance betwixt this good man and I ; only we dif- 
fered in two things : his troubles were so great, they brake out ; but 
mine I kept within. His also lay so hard upon him, they made 
him that he could not knock at the houses provided for enter- 
tainment ; but my trouble was always such as made me knock the 
louder. 

Mercy. If I might also speak my heart, I must say, that some- 
thing of him has also dwelt in me ; for I have ever been more afraid 
of the lake, and the loss of a place in Paradise, than I have been of 
the loss of other things. Oh, thought I, may I have the happiness 
to have a habitation there, it is enough, though I part with all the 
world to win it ! 

Matt. Then said Matthew, Fear was one thing that made me 
think that I was far from having that within me that accompanies 
salvation ; but if it was so with such a good man as he, why may \% 
not also go well with me? 

James. No fears, no grace, said James. Though there is not 
always grace where there is the fear of hell, yet, to be sure, there is 
no grace where there is no fear of God. 

Great-heart. Well said, James, thou hast hit the mark ; for 
the fear of God is the beginning of wisdom ; and, to be sure, they 

* Rev. viii. 2 ; xiv. c, 3. 



ERRORS OF SELF- WILL. 193 

that want the beginning have neither middle nor end. But we will 
here conclude our discourse of Mr. Fearing, after we have sent after 
him this farewell. 

" Well, Master Fearing, thou didst fear 

Thy God, and wast afraid 
Of doing anything, while here, 

That would have thee betray'd. 
And didst thou fear the lake and pit 

Would others did so too ! 
For, as for them that want thy wit, 

They do themselves undo." 

Now I saw that they still went on in their talk ; for after Mr. 
Great-heart had made an end with Mr. Fearing, Mr. Honest began 
to tell them of another, but his name was Mr. Self- Self will 

will. He pretended himself to be a pilgrim, said Mr. 
Honest ; but I persuade myself he never came in at the gate that 
stands at the head of the way. 

Great-heart. Had you ever any talk with him about it? 

Hon. Yes, more than once or twice ; but he would always be like 
himself, self-willed. He neither cared for man, nor argument, nor 
yet example ; what his mind prompted him to do, that he would do, 
and nothing else could he be got to. 

Great-heart. Pray what principles did he hold? for I suppose 
you can tell. 

Hon. He held, that a man might follow the vices as well as the 
virtues of the pilgrims ; and that if he did both, he should be cer- 
tainly saved. 

Great-heart. How ! if he had said, It is possible for the best 
to be guilty of the vices, as well as to partake of the virtues of pil- 
grims, he could not much have been blamed ; for indeed we are ex- 
empted from no vice absolutely, but on condition that we watch and 
strive. But this. I perceive, is not the thing ; but if I understand 
you right, your meaning is, that he was of that opinion, that it was 
allowable so to be. 

Hon. Ay, ay, so I mean ; and so he believed and practised. 

Great-heart. But what ground had he for his so saying ? 

Hon. Why, he said he had the Scripture for his warrant. 

Great-heart. Prithee, Mr. Honest, present us with a few par- 
ticulars. 

Hon. So I will. He said, To have to do with other men's wives 
had been practised by David, God's beloved ; and therefore he could 
do it. He said, To have more women than one, was a thing that 
Solomon practised ; and therefore he could do it. He said, That 
Sarah and the godly midwives of Egypt lied, and so did Rahab; 

o 



i 9 4 ERRORS OF SELF- WILL. 

and therefore he could do it. He said, That the disciples went at 
the bidding of their Master, and took away the owner's ass ; and 
therefore he could do so too. He said, That Jacob got the inheri- 
tance of his father in the way of guile and dissimulation ; and there- 
fore he could do so too. 

Great-heart. Highly base, indeed ! And you are sure he was 
of this opinion? 

Hon. I have heard him plead for it, bring Scripture for it, bring 
argument for it, &c. 

Great-heart. An opinion that is not fit to be with any allow- 
ance in the world. 

Hon. You must understand me rightly. He did not say that any 
man might do this ; but that those that had the virtues of those that 
did such things, might also do the same. 

Great-heart. But what more false than such a conclusion ? forthis 
is as much as to say, that because good men heretofore have sinned 
of infirmity, therefore he had allowance to do it of a presumptuous 
mind ; or if, because a child by the blast of the wind, or for that it 
stumbled at a stone, fell down, and defiled itself in mire, therefore 
he might wilfully lie down and wallow like a boar therein. Who 
could have thought that any one could so far have been blinded by 
the power of lust? But what is written must be true: They 
' ' stumble at the word, being disobedient ; whereunto also they were 
appointed."* 

His supposing that such may have the godly men's virtues, who 
addict themselves to their vices, is also a delusion as strong as the 
other. It is just as if the dog should say, I have, or may have, the 
qualities of the child, because I lick up its stinking excrements. To 
eat up the sin of God's people, is no sign of one that is possessed 
with their virtues.f Nor can I believe, that one that is of this 
opinion can at present have faith or love in him. But I know you 
have made strong objections against him ; prithee, what can he say 
for himself? 

Hon. Why, he says, To do this by way of opinion, seems abun- 
dantly more honest than to do it, and yet hold contrary to it in 
opinion. 

Great-heart. A very wicked answer ; for though to let loose 
the bridle to lusts, while our opinions are against such things, is 
bad ; yet to sin, and plead a toleration so to do, is worse. The one 
stumbles beholders accidentally, the other pleads them into the 
snare. 

Hon. There are many of this man's mind, that have not this 

* i Peter ii. 8. t Hos. iv. 8. 



MANY DIFFERENT PILGRIMS. 195 

man's mouth : and that make going on pilgrimage of so little esteem 
as it is. 

Great-heart. You have said the truth, and it is to be lamented; 
but he that feareth the King of Paradise, shall come out of them all. 

Chris. There are strange opinions in the world ; I know one that 
said, It was time enough to repent when they come to die. 

Great-heart. Such are not over wise. That man would have 
been loth, might he have had a week to run twenty miles in for his 
life, to have deferred that journey to the last hour of that week. 

Hon. You say right ; and yet the generality of them, that count 
themselves pilgrims, do indeed do thus. I am, as you see, an old 
man, and have been a traveller in this road many a day ; and I have 
taken notice of many things. 

I have seen some that have set out as if they would drive all the 
world afore them, who yet have, in few days, died as they in the 
wilderness, and so never got sight of the promised land. 

I have seen some that have promised nothing at first setting out to 
be pilgrims, and that one would have thought could not have lived a 
day, that have yet proved very good pilgrims. 

I have seen some who have run hastily forward, that again have, 
after a little time, run as fast just back again. 

I have seen some who have spoken very well of a pilgrim's life at 
first, that, after a while, have spoken as much against it. 

1 have heard some, when they first set out for Paradise, say posi- 
tively there is such a place ; who, when they have been almost there, 
have come back again and said there is none. 

I have heard some vaunt what they would do, in case they should 
be opposed, that have, even at a false alarm, fled faith, the pilgrim's 
way, and all. 

Now, as they were thus in their way, there came one running to 
meet them, and said, Gentlemen, and you of the weaker sort, if you 
love life, shift for yourselves, for the robbers are before you. 

Great-heart. Then said Mr. Great-heart, They be the three 
that set upon Little-faith heretofore. Well, said he, we are ready 
for them ; so they went on their way. Now they looked at every 
turning, when they should have met with the villains; but whether 
they heard of Mr. Great-heart, or whether they had some other game, 
they came not up to the Pilgrims. 

Christiana then wished for an inn for herself and her children, be- 
cause they were weary. Then said Mr. Honest, There is one a little 
before us, where a very honourable disciple, one Gaius, dwells.* So 
they all concluded to turn in thither, and the rather, because the old 
* Rom. xvi. 23. 

O 2 



196 " GAIUS MINE HOST." 

gentleman gave him so good a report. So when they came to the 
door, they went in, not knocking, for folks use not to knock at the 
door of an inn. Then they called for the master of the house, and 
he came to them. So they asked if they might lie there that night. 

Gaius. Yes, gentlemen, if ye be true men, for my house is for 
none but pilgrims. Then was Christiana, Mercy, and the boys the 
more glad, for that the innkeeper was a lover of pilgrims. So they 
called for rooms, and he showed them one for Christiana and her 
children, and Mercy, and another for Mr. Great-heart and the old 
gentleman. 

Great-heart. Then said Mr. Great-heart, Good Gaius, what 
hast thou for supper ? for these pilgrims have come far to-day, and 
are weary. 

Gaius. It is late, said Gaius, so we cannot conveniently go out to 
seek food; but such as we have, you shall be welcome to, if that will 
content. 

Great-heart. We will be content with what thou hast in the 
house; forasmuch as I have proved thee, thou art never destitute of 
that which is convenient. 

Then he went down and spake to the cook, whose name was 
Taste-that-which-is-good, to get ready supper for so many pilgrims. 
This done, he comes up again, saying, Come, my good friends, you 
are welcome to me, and I am glad that I have a house to entertain 
you; and while supper is making ready, if you please, let us enter- 
tain one another with some good discourse. So they all said, 
Content. 

Gaius. Then said Gaius, Whose wife is this aged matron ? and 
whose daughter is this young damsel ? 

Great-heart. The woman is the wife of one Christian, a 
Pilgrim of former times; and these are his four children. The maid 
is one of her acquaintance; one that she hath persuaded to come 
with her on pilgrimage. The boys take all after their father, and 
covet to tread in his steps; yea, if they do but see any place where 
the old Pilgrim hath lain, or any print of his foot, it ministereth joy 
to their hearts, and they covet to lie or tread in the same. 

Gaius. Then said Gaius, Is this Christian's wife? and are these 
Christian's children ; I knew your husband's father, yea, also his 
father's father. Many have been good of this stock; their ancestors 
dwelt first at Antioch.* Christian's progenitors (I suppose you 
have heard your husband talk of them) were very worthy men. They 
have, above any that I know, showed themselves men of great 
virtue and courage, for the Lord of the Pilgrims, his wavs, and 

* Acts xi. 26. 



MERCY BE TRO THED. 197 

them that loved him. I have heard of many of your husband's 
relations, that have stood all trials for the sake of the truth. Stephen, 
that was one of the first of the family from whence your husband 
sprang, was knocked on the head with stones.* James, another of 
this generation, was slain with the edge of the sword. t To say 
nothing of Paul and Peter, men anciently of the family from whence 
your husband came, there was Ignatius, who was cast to the lions ; 
Romanus, whose flesh was cut by pieces from his bones, and Polycarp, 
that played the man in the fire. There was he that was hanged up 
in a basket in the sun, for the wasps to eat; and he who they put 
into a sack, and cast him into the sea to be drowned. It would be 
utterly impossible to count up all of that family that have suffered 
injuries and death, for the love of a pilgrim's life. Nor can I but be 
glad to see that thy husband has left behind him four such boys as 
these. I hope they will bear up their father's name, and tread in 
their father's steps, and come to their father's end. 

Great-heart. Indeed, Sir, they are likely lads; they seem to 
choose heartily their father's ways. 

Gaius. That is it that I said; wherefore Christian's family is like 
still to spread abroad upon the face of the ground, and yet to be 
numerous upon the face of the earth ; wherefore let Christiana look 
out some damsels for her sons, to whom they may be betrothed, 
&c, that the name of their father and the house of his progenitors 
may never be forgotten in the world. 

Hon. It is pity this family should fall and be extinct. 

Gaius. Fall it cannot, but be diminished it may; but let Chris- 
tiana take my advice, and that is the way to uphold it. 

And, Christiana, said this Innkeeper, I am glad to see thee and 
thy friend Mercy together here, a lovely couple. And may I advise, 
take Mercy into a nearer relation to thee; if she will, let her be 
given to Matthew, thy eldest son; it is the way to preserve you a 
posterity in the earth. So this match was concluded, and in process 
of time they were married; but more of that hereafter. 

Gaius also proceeded, and said, I will now speak on the behalf of 
women, to take away their reproach. For as death and the curse 
came into the world by a woman, J so also did life and health ? "God 
sent forth his Son. made of a woman. "§ Yea, to show how much 
those that came after did abhor the act of the mother, this sex, in 
the Old Testament, coveted children, if happily this or that woman 
might be the mother of the Saviour of the world. 

I will say again, that when the Saviour was come, women rejoiced 

* Acts vii. 59, 60. t Acts xii. 2. \ Gen. iii. 

$ Gal. iv. 4. 



ig8 THE SUPPER. 

in him before either man or angel.* I read not, that ever any man 
did give unto Christ so much as one groat; but the women followed 
him, and ministered to him of their substance.! It was a woman 
that washed his feet with tears, and a woman that anointed his body 
to the burial. % They were women that wept, when he was going to 
the cross, and women that followed him from the cross, and that 
sat by his sepulchre, when he was buried. § They were women that 
were first with him at his resurrection-morn; and women that brought 
tidings first to his disciples, that he was risen from the dead.|| 
Women, therefore, are highly favoured, and show by these things 
that they are sharers with us in the grace of life. 

Now the cook sent up to signify that supper was almost ready, and 
sent one to lay the cloth, the trenchers, and to set the salt and bread 
in order. 

Then said Matthew, The sight of this cloth, and of this fore-runner 
of the supper, begetteth in me a greater appetite to my food than I 
had before. 

Gaius. So let all ministering doctrines to thee, in this life, beget 
in thee a greater desire to sit at the supper of the 

What tobeg-a- great King in his kingdom; for all preaching, books, 

in| r o d f the m boar y d and ordinances here, are but as the laying of the 

with the cloth and trenchers, and as setting of salt upon the board, when 

trenchers. compared with the feast that our Lord will make for 

us when we come to his house. 

So supper came up; and first, a heave-shoulder, and a wave-breast, \ 
were set on the table before them, to show that they must begin their 
meal with prayer and praise to God.** The heave-shoulder David 
lifted his heart up to God with; and with the wave-breast, where his 
heart lay, with that he used to lean upon his harp when he played. 
These two dishes were very fresh and good, and they all eat heartily 
well thereof. 

The next they brought up was a bottle of wine, red as blood, tt So 
Gaius said to them, Drink freely; this is the juice of the true vine, 
that makes glad the heart of God and man.Jt So they drank and 
were merry. 

The next was a dish of milk well crumbed; but Gaius said, Let 
the boys have that, that they may grow thereby. §§ 

Then they brought up in course a dish of butter and honey. Then 
said Gaius, Eat freely of this; for this is good to cheer up, and 

* Luke ii. t Luke viii. 2, 3. X Luke vii. 37, 50 ; John xi. 2 ; xii. 3. 

« Luke xxiii. 27; Matt, xxvii. 55. 56, 6r. || Luke xxiv. 22, 23. 

Tf Lev. vii. 32 — 34 ; x. 14, 15. ** Psa. xxv. 1 : Heb. xiii. 15. tt Deut. xxxii. 14. 

XX Judges ix. 13 ; John xv. 1. «9 1 Peter ii. 1, 2. 



THEY ASK RIDDLES. 199 

strengthen your judgments and understandings. This was our 
Lord's dish when he was a child; "Butter and honey shall he eat, 
that he may know to refuse the evil and choose the good."* 

Then they brought them up a dish of apples, and they were very 
good tasted fruit. Then said Matthew, May we eat apples, since 
they were such, by and with which the serpent beguiled our first 
mother? 

Then said Gaius — 

" Apples were they with which we were beguiled ; 
Yet sin, not apples, hath our souls denied. 
Apples forbid, if eat, corrupt the blood ; 
To eat such, when commanded, does us good. 
Drink of his flagons, then, thou church, his dove, 
And eat his apples, who are sick of love." 

Then said Matthew, I made the scruple, because I a while since 
was sick with eating of fruit. 

Gaius. Forbidden fruit will make you sick, but not what our Lord 
has tolerated. 

While they were thus talking, they were presented with another 
dish, and it was a dish of nuts.f Then said some at the table, Nats 
spoil tender teeth, especially the teeth of children; which when Gaius 
heard, he said — 

" Hard texts are nuts (I will not call them cheaters), 
Whose shells do keep their kernels from the eaters. 
Ope then the shells, and you shall have the meat ; 
They here are brought for you to crack and eat." 

Then were they very merry, and sat at the table a long time, 
talking of many things. Then said the old gentleman, My good 
landlord, while we are cracking your nuts, if you please, do you open 
this riddle: 

" A man there was, though some did count him mad, 
The more he cast away, the more he had." 

Then they all gave good heed, wondering what good Gaius would 
say; so he sat still a while, and then thus replied: — 

41 He that bestows his goods upon the poor, 
Shall have as much again, and ten times more." 

Then said Joseph, I dare say, Sir, I did not think you could have 
found it out. 

Oh! said Gaius, I have been trained up in this way a great while; 
nothing teaches like experience; I have learned of my Lord to be 
kind: and have found by experience, that I have gained thereby. 
" There is that scattereth, and yet increaseth; and there is that with- 
holdeth more than is meet; but it tendeth to poverty.^ There is 

* Isa. vii. 15. 1 Can. vi. re. % Prov. xi. 



200 THE VIGIL. 

that maketh himself rich, yet hath nothing; there is that maketh 
himself poor, yet hath great riches."* 

Then Samuel whispered to Christiana, his mother, and said, 
Mother, this is a very good man's house, let us stay here a good 
while, and let my brother Matthew be married here to Mercy before 
we go any further. 

The which Gaius the host overhearing said, With a very good will, 
my child. 

So they staid there more than a month, and Mercy was given to 
Matthew to wife. 

While they staid here, Mercy, as her custom was, would be making 
coats and garments to give to the poor, by which she brought up a 
very good report upon the Pilgrims. 

But to return again to our story. After supper the lads desired a 
bed; for that they were weary with travelling: then Gaius called to 
show them their chamber; but said Mercy, I will have them to bed. 
So she had them to bed, and they slept well; but the rest sat up all 
night; for Gaius and they were such suitable company, that they 
could not tell how to part. Then after much talk of their Lord, 
themselves, and their journey, old Mr. Honest, he that put forth the 
riddle to Gaius, began to nod. Then said Great-heart, What, Sir, 
you begin to be drowsy; come, rub up; now here is a riddle for you. 
Then said Mr. Honest, Let us hear it. 

Then said Mr. Great-heart — 

A r\AA\e- " ^ e t ^ iat %v '^ kill, must first be overcome, 

a rKiaie. ^y^ live a b roac i wou i t i t fi rst mus t die at home." 

Ha! said Mr. Honest, it is a hard one, hard to expound, and 
harder to practise. But come, landlord, said he, I will, if you please, 
leave my part to you; do you expound it, and I will hear what you 
say. 

No, said Gaius, it was put to you, and it is expected that you 
should answer it. 

Then said the old gentleman — 

" He first by crrace must conquered be, 
The riddle That sin would mortify ; 

opened. And who, that lives, would convince me, 

Unto himself must die." 

It is right, said Gaius; good doctrine and experience teaches this. 
For, first, until grace displays itself, and overcomes the soul with its 
glory, it is altogether without heart to oppose sin; besides, if sin is 
Satan's cords, by which the soul lies bound, how should it make re- 
sistance before it is loosed from that infirmity? 

• Prov. xiii. 7. 



SLAY-GOOD, A GIANT. 201 

Secondly, nor will any, that knows either reason or grace, believe 
that such a man can be a living monument of grace that is a slave to 
his own corruptions. 

And now it comes in my mind, I will tell you a story worth the 
hearing. There were two men that went on pilgri- 
mage: the one began when he was young, the other th?nSnXngT° rt T 
when he was old. The young man had strong cor- 
ruptions to grapple with: the old man's were decayed w ] th the decays 
of nature. The young man trod his steps as even as did the old one, 
and was every way as light as he. Who now, or which of them, had 
their graces shining clearest, since both seemed to be alike ? 

Hon. The young man's, doubtless. For that which heads it 
against the greatest opposition, gives best demonstration that it is 
strongest; especially when it also holdeth pace with that that meets 
not with half so much ; as, to be sure, old age does not. 

Besides, I have observed that old men have blessed themselves 
with this mistake, namely, taking the decays of nature for a gracious 
conquest over corruptions, and so have been apt to beguile them- 
selves. Indeed, old men that are gracious, are best able to give ad- 
vice to them that are young, because they have seen most of the 
emptiness of things. But yet, for an old and a young [man] to set 
out both together, the young one has the advantage of the fairest 
discovery of a work of grace within him, though the old man's cor- 
ruptions are naturally the weakest. 

Thus they sat talking till break of day. Now, when the family 
was up, Christiana bid her son James that he should read a chapter; 
so he read the fifty-third of Isaiah. When he had done, Mr. Honest 
asked, why it was said that the Saviour is said to come "out of a dry 
ground;" and also, that " he had no form or comeliness in him?" 

Great-heakt. Then said Mr. Great-heart, To the first, I answer, 
Because the church of the Jews, of which Christ came, had then lost 
almost all the sap and spirit of religion. To the second, I say, The 
words are spoken in the person of the unbelievers, who, because they 
want that eye that can see into our Prince's heart, therefore they judge 
of him by the meanness of his outside. Just like those that know 
not that precious stones are covered over with a homely crust; who, 
when they have found one, because they know not what they have 
found, cast it again away, as men do a common stone. 

Well, said Gaius, now you are here, and since, as I know, Mr. 
Great-heart is good at his weapons, if you please, after we have re- 
freshed ourselves, we will walk into the fields, to see if we can do any 
good. About a mile from hence, there is one Slay-good, a giant 
that does much annoy the King's highway in these parts; and I know 



202 GREAT-HEART SLAYS THE GIANT. 

whereabout his haunt is. He is master of a number of thieves. It 
would be well if we could clear these parts of him. 

So they consented, and went, Mr. Great-heart with his sword, 
helmet, and shield, and the rest with spears and staves. 

When they came to the place where he was, they found him with 
one Feeble-mind in his hands, whom his servants had brought unto 
him, having taken him in the way. Now the giant was rifling him, 
with a purpose, after that, to pick his bones, for he was of the nature 
of flesh-eaters. 

Well, so soon as he saw Mr. Great-heart and his friends at the 
mouth of his cave, with their weapons, he demanded what they 
wanted. 

Great-heart. We want thee; for we are come to revenge the 
quarrel of the many that thou hast slain of the pilgrims, when thou 
hast dragged them out of the King's highway; wherefore, come 
out of thy cave. So he armed himself and came out; and to a battle 
they went, and fought for above an hour, and then stood still to take 
wind. 

Slay. Then said the giant, Why are you here on my ground ? 

Great-heart. To revenge the blood of pilgrims, as I also told 
thee before. So they went to it again, and the giant made Mr. 
Great-heart give back; but he came up again, and, in the greatness 
of his mind, he let fly with such stoutness at the giant's head and 
sides, that he made him let his weapon fall out of his hand; so he 
smote him, and slew him, and cut off his head, and brought it away 
to the inn. He also took Feeble-mind, the pilgrim, and brought 
him with him to his lodgings. When they were come home, they 
showed his head to the family, and then set it up, as they had done 
others before, for a terror to those that shall attempt to do as he 
hereafter. 

Then they asked Mr. Feeble-mind how he fell into his hands ? 

Feeble-mind. Then said the poor man, I am a sickly man, as 
you see; and, because death did usually once a-day knock at my door, 
I thought I should never be well at home; so I betook myself to a 
pilgrim's life, and have travelled hither from the town of Uncertain, 
where I and my father were born. I am a man of no strength at 
all of body, nor yet of mind; but would, if I could, though I can 
but crawl, spend my life in the pilgrim's way. W T hen I came at the 
gate that is at the head of the way, the Lord of that place did en- 
tertain me freely; neither objected he against my weakly looks, nor 
against my feeble mind; but gave me such things that were necessary 
for my journey, and bid me hope to the end. When I came to the 
house of the Interpreter, I received much kindness there; and because 



FEEBLE-MIND'S STORY. 203 

the Hill Difficulty was judged too hard for me, I was carried up 
that by one of his servants. Indeed, I have found much relief from 
pilgrims, though none were willing to go so softly as I am forced to 
do; yet still, as they came on, they bid me be of good cheer, and said 
that it was the will of their Lord that comfort should be given to the 
feeble-minded, and so went on their own pace.* When I was come 
up to Assault Lane, then this giant met with me, and bid me prepare 
for an encounter; but, alas ! feeble one that I was, I had more need 
of a cordial. So he came up and took me. I conceited he should 
not kill me. Also, when he had got me into his den, since I went 
not with him willingly, I believed I should come out alive again; for 
I have heard, that not any pilgrim that is taken captive by violent 
hands, if he keeps heart-whole towards his Master, is, by the laws of 
Providence, to die by the hand of the enemy. Robbed I looked to 
be, and robbed to be sure I am; but I am, as you see, escaped with 
life ; for the which I thank my King as author, and you as the means. 
Other brunts I also look for; but this I have resolved on, to wit, to 
run when I can, to go when I cannot run, and to creep when I cannot 
go. As to the main, I thank him that loves me, I am fixed. My 
way is before me, my mind is beyond the river that has no bridge, 
though I am, as you see, but of a feeble mind. 

Hon. Then said old Mr. Honest, Have you not, some time ago, 
been acquainted with one Mr. Fearing, a pilgrim? 

Feeble. Acquainted with him ! Yes; he came from the town of 
Stupidity, which lieth four degrees to the northward of the City of 
Destruction, and as many off of where I was born: yet we were well 
acquainted, for, indeed, he was my uncle, my father's brother. He 
and I have been much of a temper. He was a little shorter than I, 
but yet we were much of a complexion. 

Hon. I perceive you know him; and I am apt to believe also that 
you were related one to another; for you have his whitely look, a cast 
like his with your eye, and your speech is much alike. 

Feeble. Most have said so that have known us both; and besides, 
what I have read in him, I have, for the most part, found in myself. 

Gaius. Come, Sir, said good Gaius, be of good cheer, you are 
welcome to me, and to my house, and what thou hast a mind to, 
call for freely; and what thou wouldest have my servants do for thee, 
they will do it with a ready mind. 

Then said Mr. Feeble-mind, This is unexpected favour, and as 
the sun shining out of a very dark cloud. Did Giant 
Slay-good intend me this favour when he stopped me, Notice to be 
and resolved to let me go no further? Did he intend, dence. ° 

* i Thes. v. 14. 



204 MERCY MARRIED. 

that after he had rifled my pockets, I should go to Gaius, mine host ? 
Yet so it is. 

Now, just as Mr. Feeble-mind and Gaius were thus in talk, there 
comes one running, and called at the door, and told that, about a 
mile and a half off, there was one Mr. Not-right, a pilgrim, struck 
dead upon the place where he was with a thunderbolt. 

Feeble. Alas! said Mr. Feeble-mind, is he slain? He overtook 
me some days before I came so far as hither, and would be my 
company-keeper. He also was with me when Slay-good, the giant, 
took me but he was nimble of his heels, and escaped. But, it seems, 
he escaped to die, and I was took to live. 

" What, one would think, doth seek to slay outright, 
Ofttimes delivers from the saddest plight. 
That very providence, whose face is death, 
Doth ofttimes to the lowly, life bequeath. 
I taken was, he did escape and flee ; 
Hands cross'd gives death to him, and life to me." 

Now, about this time, Matthew and Mercy were married. Also 
Gaius gave his daughter Phebe to James, Matthew's brother, to 
wife; after which rime they yet staid above ten days at Gaius' house, 
spending their time, and the seasons, like as pilgrims used to do. 

When they were to depart, Gaius made them a feast, and they did 
eat and drink, and were merry. Now the hour was come that they 
must be gone; wherefore Mr. Great-heart called for a reckoning; but 
Gaius told him, that at his house it was not the custom for pilgrims 
to pay for their entertainment. He boarded them by the year, but 
looked for his pay from the good Samaritan, who had promised him, 
at his return, whatsoever charge he was at with them, faithfully to 
repay him.* Then said Mr. Great-heart to him, 

Great-heart. "Beloved, thou dost faithfully whatsoever thou 
dost to the brethren, and to strangers; which have borne witness of 
thy charity before the church ; whom if thou (yet) bring forward on 
their journey after a godly sort, thou shalt do well, "t 

Then Gaius took his leave of them all, and of his children, and 
particularly of Mr. Feeble-mind. He also gave him something to 
drink by the way. 

Now Mr. Feeble-mind, when they were going out of the door, 
made as if he intended to linger; the which when Mr. Great-heart 
espied, he said, Come, Mr. Feeble-mind, pray do you go along with 
us, I will be your conductor, and you shall fare as the rest. 

Feeble. Alas ! I want a suitable companion; you are all lustvand 
strong; but 1, as you see, am weak; I choose, therefore, rather to 
come behind, lest, by reason of my many infirmities, I should be both 

* Luke x. 34, 35. t 3 J<->hn 5, 6. 



READY-TO-HALT JOINS THEM. 205 

a burden to myself and to you. I am, as I said, a man of a weak and 
feeble mind, and shall be offended and made weak at that which 
others can bear. I shall like no laughing; I shall like no gay attire; 
I shall like no unprofitable questions. Nay, I am so weak a man, 
as to be offended with that which others have liberty to do. I do 
not yet know all the truth. I am a very ignorant Christian man; 
sometimes if I hear some rejoice in the Lord, it troubles me, because 
I cannot do so too. It is with me, as it is with a weak man among 
the strong, or as with a sick man among the healthy, or as a lamp 
despised (" He that is ready to slip with his feet is as a lamp despised 
in the thought of him that is at ease;")* so that I know not what 
to do. 

Great-heart. But, brother, said Mr. Great-heart, I have it in 
commission to "comfort the feeble-minded," and to "support the 
weak."t You must needs go along with us; we will wait for you; we 
will lend you our help, % we will deny ourselves of some 
things, both opinionative and practical, for your sake, § spirit!'^ 

we will not enter into doubtful disputations before 
you; we will be made all things to you, rather than you shall be left 
behind. ;i 

Now all this while they were at Gaius's door; and behold, as they 
were thus in the heat of their discourse, Mr. Ready-to-halt came by, 
with his crutches in his hand.^f and he also was going on pilgrimage. 

Feeble. Then said Mr. Feeble-mind to him, Man, how earnest 
thou hither ? I was but just now complaining, that I had not a suit- 
able companion, but thou art according to my wish. Welcome, 
come, good Mr. Ready-to-halt, I hope thee and I may be some help. 

Ready-to-halt. I shall be glad of thy company, said the other; 
and good Mr. Feeble-mind, rather than we will part, since we are 
thus happily met, I will lend thee one of my crutches. 

Feeble. Nay, said he, though I thank thee for thy goodwill, I 
am not inclined to halt before I am lame. Howbeit, I think when 
occasion is, it may help me against a dog. 

Ready. If either myself or my crutches can do thee a pleasure, 
we are both at thy command, good Mr. Feeble-mind. 

Thus therefore they went on; Mr. Great-heart and Mr. Honest 
went before, Christiana and her children went next, and Mr. Feeble- 
mind and Mr. Ready-to-halt came behind with his crutches. Then 
said Mr. Honest, 

Hon. Pray, Sir, now we are upon the road, tell us some profit- 
able things of some that have gone on pilgrimage before us. 

* Job xii. 5. t 1 Thes. v. 14. t Rom. xiv. 1. 

$ 1 Cor. viii. U 1 Cor. ix. 22. *& Psa. xxxviii. 17 



206 TALK ABOUT PILGRIMS. 

Great-heart. With a good will. I suppose you have heard how 
Christian of old did meet with Apollyon in the Valley of Humiliation; 
and also what hard work he had, to go through the Valley of the 
Shadow of Death. Also I think you cannot but have heard how 
Faithful was put to it with Madam Wanton, with Adam the First, 
with one Discontent and Shame, four as deceitful villains as a man 
can meet with upon the road. 

Hon. Yes, I have heard of all this; but indeed, good Faithful was 
hardest put to it with Shame; he was an unwearied one. 

Great-heart. Aye; for, as the Pilgrim well said, he of all men 
had the wrong name. 

Hon. But pray, Sir, where was it that Christian and Faithful met 
Talkative ? That same was also a notable one. 

Great-heart. He was a confident fool, yet many follow his 
ways. 

Hon. He had liked to have beguiled Faithful. 

Great-heart. Aye, but Christian put him into a way quickly to 
find him out. Thus they went on till they came at the place where 
Evangelist met with Christian and Faithful, and prophesied to them 
of what should befall them at Vanity Fair. 

Great-heart. Then said their guide, Hereabouts did Christian 
and Faithful meet with Evangelist, who prophesied to them of what 
troubles they should meet with at Vanity Fair. 

Hon. Say you so ? I dare say it was a hard chapter that then he 
did read unto them. 

Great-heart. It was so; but he gave them encouragement 
withal. But what do we talk of them ? they were a couple of lion- 
like men; they had set their faces like flint. Don't you remember 
how undaunted they were when they stood before the judge. 

Hon. Well, Faithful bravely suffered. 

Great-heart. So he did, and as brave things came on it; for 
Hopeful and some others, as the story relates it, were converted by 
his death. 

Hon. Well, but pray go on; for you are well acquainted with 
things. 

Great-heart. Above all that Christian met with after he had 
passed through Vanity Fair, one By-ends was the arch one. 

Hon. By-ends ! What was he ? 

Great-heart. A very arch fellow; a downright hypocrite. One 
that would be religious which way ever the world went; but so cun- 
ning that he would be sure neither to lose nor suffer for it. He had 
his mode of religion for every fresh occasion; and his wife was as 
good at it as he. He would turn and change from opinion to 



A FEW CHRISTIANS IN VANITY FAIR. 207 

opinion; yea, and plead for so doing too. But, so far as I could 
learn, he came to an ill end with his by-ends; nor did I ever hear 
that any of his children were ever of any esteem with any that truly 
feared God. 

Now, by this time, they were come within sight of the town of 
Vanity, where Vanity Fair is kept. So when they saw that they were 
so near the town, they consulted with one another, how they should 
pass through the town; and some said one thing, and some another. 
At last Mr. Great-heart said, I have, as you may understand, often 
been a conductor of pilgrims through this town; now I am acquainted, 
with one Mr. Mnason, a Cyprusian by nation, an old disciple, at 
whose house we may lodge.* If you think good, said he, we will 
turn in there. 

Content, said old Honest; Content, said Christiana; Content, said 
Mr. Feeble-mind; and so they said all. Now, you must think, it 
was even-tide by that they got to the outside of the town; but Mr. 
Great-heart knew the way to the old man's house. So thither they 
came; and he called at the door, and the old man within knew his 
tongue so soon as ever he heard it; so he opened, and they all came 
in. Then said Mnason their host, How far have ye come to-day ? 
so they said, From the house of Gaius our friend. I promise you, 
said he, you have gone a good stitch, you may well be a weary; sit 
down. So they sat down. 

Great-heart. Then said their guide, Come, what cheer, Sirs? 
I dare say you are welcome to my friend. 

Mnason. I also, said Mr. Mnason, do bid you welcome, and, 
whatever you want, do but say, and we will do what we can to get it 
for you. 

Hon. Our great want, a while since, was harbour and good com- 
pany, and now I hope we have both. 

Mnason. For harbour, you see what it is; but for good company, 
that will appear in the trial. 

Great-heart. Well, said Mr. Great-heart, will you have the 
Pilgrims up into their lodging? 

Mnason. I will, said Mr. Mnason. So he had them to their re- 
spective places; and also showed them a very fair dining-room, where 
they might be, and sup together, until time was come to go to rest. 

Now, when they were set in their places, and were a little cheery 
after their journey, Mr. Honest asked his landlord, if there were any 
store of good people in the town ? 

Mnason. We have a few, for indeed they are but a few, when 
compared with them on the other side. 

* Acts xxi. 16. 



208 PERSECUTION CEASED. 

Hon. But how shall we do to see some of them? for the sight of 
good men to them that are going on pilgrimage, is like to the ap- 
pearing of the moon and the stars to them that are sailing upon the 
seas. 

Then Mr. Mnason stamped with his foot, and his daughter Grace 
came up; so he said unto her, Grace, go you, tell my friends, Mr. 
Contrite, Mr. Holyman, Mr. Love-saint, Mr. Dare-not-lie, and Mr. 
Penitent, that I have a friend or two at my house that have a mind 
this evening to see them. 

So Grace went to call them, and they came; and, after salutation 
made, they sat down together at the table. 

Then said Mr. Mnason, their landlord, My neighbours, I have, as 
you see, a company of strangers come to my house; they are Pil- 
grims; they come from afar, and are going to mount Zion. But who, 
quoth he, do you think this is? pointing with his finger to Christiana; 
it is Christiana, the wife of Christian, that famous Pilgrim, who, with 
Faithful his brother, were so shamefully handled in our town. At 
that they stood amazed, saying, We little thought to see Christiana, 
when Grace came to call us; wherefore this is a very comfortable 
surprise. Then they asked her of her welfare, and if these young 
men were her husband's sons ? And when she had told them they 
were, they said, The King whom you love and serve, make you as 
your father, and bring you where he is in peace ! 

Hon. Then Mr. Honest (when they were all sat down) asked Mr. 
Contrite and the rest, in what posture their town was at present ? 

Contrite. You may be sure we are full of hurry in fair-time. It 

is hard keeping our hearts and spirits in any good order, when we 

are in a cumbered condition. He that lives in such a 

The fruit of place as this is, and that has to do with such as we 
have, has need of an item, to caution him to take 
heed, every moment of the day. 

Hon. But how are your neighbours for quietness ? 

Contrite. They are much more moderate now than formerly. 
You know how Christian and Faithful were used at our town ; but of 
late, I say, they have been far more moderate. I think the blood of 
Faithful lieth with load upon them till now; for since they burned 
him, they have been ashamed to burn any more. In those days we 
were afraid to walk the streets, but now we can show our heads. 
Then the name of a professor was odious; now, especially in some 
parts of our town (for you know our town is large) religion is counted 
honourable. 

Then said Mr. Contrite to them, Pray how fareth it with you in 
your pilgrimage ? How stands the country affected towards you ? 




VALIANT-FORTRUTH P 220. 



THE SAINTS IN VANITY FAIR. 209 

Hon. It happens to us as it happeneth to wayfaring men; some- 
times our way is clean, sometimes foul, sometimes up hill, sometimes 
down hill; we are seldom at a certainty; the wind is not always on 
our backs, nor is ever/ one a friend that we meet with in the way. 
We have met with some notable rubs already; and what are yet be- 
hind we know not; but for the most part, we find it true, that has 
been talked of, of old, A good man must suffer trouble. 

Contrite. You talk of rubs; what rubs have you met withal? 

Hon. Nay, ask Mr. Great-heart, our guide, for he can give the 
best account of that. v 

Great-heart. We have been beset three or four times already. 
First, Christiana and her children were beset with two ruffians, that 
they feared would a took away their lives. We were beset with 
Giant Bloody-man, Giant Maul, and Giant Slay-good. Indeed we 
did rather beset the last, than were beset of him. And thus it was : 
After we had been some time at the house of ' ' Gaius, mine host, 
and of the whole church,"* we were minded upon a time to take our 
weapons with us, and so go see if we could light upon any of those 
that were enemies to pilgrims (for we heard that there was a notable 
one thereabouts). Now Gaius knew his haunt better than I, because 
he dwelt thereabout; so we looked, and looked, till at last we dis- 
cerned the mouth of his cave; then we were glad, and plucked up 
our spirits. So we approached up to his den, and lo, when we came 
there, he had dragged, by mere force, into his net, this poor man, 
Mr. Feeble-mind, and was about to bring him to his end. But when 
he saw us, supposing, as we thought, he had had another prey, he 
left the poor man in his hole, and came out. So we fell to it full sore, 
and he lustily laid about him ; but in conclusion, he was brought down 
to the ground, and his head cut off, and set up by the way-side, for a 
terror to such as should after practise such ungodliness. That I tell 
you the truth, here is the man himself to affirm it, who was as a lamb 
taken out of the mouth of the lion. 

Feeble-mind. Then said Mr. Feeble-mind, I found this true, to my 
cost and comfort; to my cost, when he threatened to pick my bones 
every moment; and to my comfort, when I saw Mr. Great-heart and 
his friends with their weapons, approach so near for my deliverance. 

Holy-man. Then said Mr. Holy-man, There are two things that 
they have need to be possessed with, that go on pilgrimage : courage, 
and an unspotted life. If they have not courage, they can never 
hold on their way; and if their lives be loose, they will make the 
very name of a Pilgrim stink. 

Love-saint. Then said Mr. Love-saint, I hope this caution is not 

* Rom. xvi. 23. 

P 



210 THE DRAGON WITH SEVEN HEADS. 

needful amongst you. But truly, there are many that go upon the 
road., that rather declare themselves strangers to pilgrimage, than 
strangers and pilgrims in the earth. 

Dare-not-lie. Then said Mr. Dare-not-lie, It is true, they neither 
have the pilgrim's weed, nor the pilgrim's courage; they go not up- 
rightly, but all awry with their feet; one shoe goes inward, another 
outward, and their hosen out behind; there a rag, and there a rent, 
to the disparagement of their Lord. 

Penitent. These things, said Mr. Penitent, they j 
Mr s P e P ech. tentS ought to be troubled for; nor are the pilgrims like to I 
have that grace put upon them and their pilgrim's 
progress as they desire, until the way is cleared of such spots and 
blemishes. 

Thus they sat talking and spending the time, until supper was set 
upon the table; unto which they went and refreshed their weary 
bodies; so they went to rest. Now they stayed in this fair a great 
while, at the house of this Mr. Mnason, who, in process of time, 
gave his daughter Grace unto Samuel, Christiana's son, to wife, and 
his daughter Martha to Joseph. 

The time, as I said, that they lay here, was long (for it was not 
now as in former times). Wherefore the Pilgrims grew acquainted 
with many of the good people of the town, and did them what ser- 
vice they could. Mercy, as she was wont, laboured much for the 
poor; wherefore their bellies and backs blessed her, and she was 
there an ornament to her profession. And, to say the truth for 
Grace, Phebe, and Martha, they were all of a very good nature, and 
did much good in their place. They were also all of them very 
fruitful; so that Christian's name, as was said before, was like to live 
in the world. 

While they lay here, there came a monster out of the woods, and 
A monster s * ew manv °f tne people of the town. It would also 

carry away their children, and teach them to suck its 
whelps. Now no man in the town durst sc much as face this mon- 
ster; but all men fled when they heard of the noise of his coming. 
The monster was like unto no one beast upon the earth; its body 
His shape, his was like a dragon, and it had seven heads and ten 
nature. horns.* It made great havoc of children, and yet it 

was governed by a woman. This monster propounded conditions to 
men, and such men as loved their lives more than their souls, 
accepted of those conditions. So they came under. 

Now, this Mr. Great-heart, together with these that came to visit 
the pilgrims at Mr. Mnason 's house, entered into a covenant to go 

* Rev. xvii. 3. 



THE PILGRIMS SET FOR WARD AGAIN. 211 

and engage this beast, if perhaps they might deliver the people of 
this town from the paws and mouth of this so devouring a serpent. 

Then did Mr. Great-heart, Mr. Contrite, Mr. Holy-man, Mr. 
Dare-not-lie, and Mr. Penitent, with their weapons How he is 

go forth to meet him. Now the monster, at first, engaged, 

was very rampant, and looked upon these enemies with great dis- 
dain; but they so belaboured him, being sturdy men at arms, that 
they made him make a retreat: so they came home to Mr. Mnason's 
house again. 

The monster, you must know, had his certain seasons to come out 
in, and to make his attempts upon the children of the people of the 
town; also these seasons did these valiant worthies watch him in, 
and did still continually assault him; insomuch that in process of 
time he became not only wounded, but lame; also he has not made 
that havoc of the townsmen's children, as formerly he has done. And 
it is verily believed by some, that this beast will die of his wounds. 

This, therefore, made Mr. Great-heart and his fellows of great 
fame in this town; so that many of the people that wanted their 
taste of things, yet had a reverend esteem and respect for them. 
Upon this account therefore it was, that these pilgrims got not much 
hurt here. True, there were some of the baser sort, that could see 
no more than a mole, nor understand more than a beast; these had 
no reverence for these men, nor took they notice of their valour or 
adventures. 

Well, the time grew on that the Pilgrims must go on their way, 
"wherefore they prepared for their journey. They sent for their 
friends; they conferred with them; they had some time set apart, 
therein to commit each other to the protection of their Prince. There 
were again, that brought them of such things as they had, that were 
fit for the weak and the strong, for the women and the men, and so 
laded them with such things as were necessary.* 

Then they set forward on their way; and their friends accompany- 
ing them so far as was convenient, they again committed each other 
to the protection of their King, and parted. 

They, therefore, that were of the Pilgrim's company went on, and 
Mr. Great-heart went before them. Now the women and children 
being weakly, they were forced to go as they could bear ; by this 
means Mr. Ready-to-halt and Mr. Feeble-mind had more to sympa- 
thize with their condition. 

When they were gone from the townsmen, and when their friends 
had bid them farewell, they quickly came to the place where Faithful 
was put to death; there therefore they made a stand, and thanked 

* Acts xxviii. 10. 

P 2 



212 THE FOLD OF THE GOOD SHEPHERD. 

Him that had enabled him to bear his cross so well; and the rather 
because they now found that they had a benefit by such a manly 
suffering as his was. 

They went on, therefore, after this, a good way further, talking of 
Christian and Faithful; and how Hopeful joined himself to Christian 
after that Faithful was dead. 

Now they were come up with the Hill Lucre, where the silver 
mine was, which took Demas off from his pilgrimage, and into which, 
as some think, By-ends fell and perished ; wherefore they considered 
that. But when they were come to the old monument that stood 
over against the Hill Lucre, to wit, to the pillar of salt that stood 
also within view of Sodom and its stinking lake ; they marvelled, as 
did Christian before, that men of that knowledge and ripeness of 
wit, as they were, should be so blinded as to turn aside here. Only 
they considered again, that nature is not affected with the harms 
that others have met with, especially if that thing upon which they 
look, has an attracting virtue upon the foolish eye. 

I saw now that they went on, till they came at the river that was 
on this side of the Delectable Mountains. To the river where the 
fine trees grow on both sides ; and whose leaves, if taken inwardly, 
are good against surfeits, where the meadows are green all the year 
long, and where they might lie down safely.* 

By this river side, in the meadow, there were cotes and folds for 
sheep, a house built for the nourishing and bringing up of those 
lambs, the babes of those women that go on pilgrimage. t Also 
there was here one that was intrusted with them, who could have 
compassion, and that could gather these lambs with his arm, and 
carry them in his bosom, and that could gently lead those that were 
with young. % Now to the care of this man, Christiana admonished 
her four daughters to commit their little ones, that by these waters 
they might be housed, harboured, succoured, and nourished, and 
that none of them might be lacking in time to come. This Man, if 
any of them go astray, or be lost, he will bring them again : he will 
also bind up that which was broken, and will strengthen them that 
are sick.§ Here they will never want meat, and drink, and clothing; 
here they will be kept from thieves and robbers ; for this man will 
die before one of those committed to his trust shall be lost. || Be- 
sides, here they shall be sure to have good nurture and admonition, 
and shall be taught to walk in right paths, and that you know is a 
favour of no small account. Also here, as you see, are delicate 
waters, pleasant meadows, dainty flowers, variety of trees, and such 

* Psa. xxiii. t Heb. v. 2. J Isa. xl. 11. 

S Ezek. xxxiv. 11— 16. U Jer. xxiii. 4. 



THE KING'S CHAMPION DEFIES DESPAIR 213 

as bear wholesome fruit ; fruit not like that that Matthew ate of that 
fell over the wall out of Beelzebub's garden ; but fruit that procureth 
health where there is none, and that continueth and increaseth it 
where it is. 

So they were content to commit their little ones to him; and that 
which was also an encouragement to them so to do, was, for that all 
this was to be at the charge of the King, and so was as an hospital 
for young children and orphans. 

Now they went on; and when they were come to By-path Meadow, 
to the stile over which Christian went with his fellow Hopeful, when 
they were taken by Giant Despair, and put into 
Doubting Castle; they sat down and consulted what They being come 

o, , , * / . , to By-path stile, 

was best to be done; to wit, now they were so strong, have a mind to 
and had got such a man as Mr. Great-heart for their J~an?Des C air Vith 
conductor, whether they had not best to make an ian espalr - 
attempt upon the Giant, demolish his castle, and, if there were any 
pilgrims in it, to set them at liberty, before they went any further. 
So one said one thing, and another said the contrary. One 
questioned if it was lawful to go upon unconsecrated ground ; 
another said they might, provided their end was good; but Mr. 
Great-heart said, Though that assertion offered last cannot be uni- 
versally true, yet I have a commandment to resist sin, to overcome 
evil, to fight the good fight of faith ; and, I pray, with whom should 
I fight this good fight, if not with Giant Despair? I will, therefore, 
attempt the taking away of his life, and the demolishing of Doubt- 
ing Castle. Then said he, who will go with me ? Then said old 
Honest, I will. And so will we too, said Christiana's four sons, 
Matthew, Samuel, James, and Joseph; for they were young men and 
strong.* So they left the women in the road, and with them Mr. 
Feeble-mind and Mr. Ready-to-halt with his crutches, to be their 
guard, until they came back ; for in that place, though Giant Despair 
dwelt so near, they keeping in the road, a little child might lead them.f 
So Mr. Great-heart, old Honest, and the four young men, went to go 
up to Doubting Castle, to look for Giant Despair. When they come 
at the Castle-gate, they knocked for entrance with an unusual noise. 
At that the old Giant comes to the gate, and Diffidence, his w r ife, 
follows. Then said he, Who and what is he that is so hardy, as after 
this manner to molest the Giant Despair? Mr. Great-heart replied, 
It is I, Great-heart, one of the King of the Celestial Country's con- 
ductors of pilgrims to their place; and I demand of thee that thou 
open thy gates for my entrance. Prepare thyself also to fight, for I 
am come to take away thy head, and to demolish Doubting Castle. 

* 1 John ii. 13, 14. t Isa. xi. 6. 



2i 4 DOUBTING CASTLE DESTROYED. 

Now Giant Despair, because he was a giant, thought no man 
could overcome him; and, again, thought he, since heretofore I have 
made a conquest of angels, shall Great-heart make me afraid! So 
he harnessed himself, and went out. He had a cap of steel upon his 
head, a breast-plate of fire girded to him, and he came out in iron 
shoes, with a great club in his hand. Then these six men made up 
to him, and beset him behind and before. Also when Diffidence, 
the giantess, came up to help him, old Mr. Honest cut her down at 
one blow. Then they fought for their lives, and Giant Despair was 
brought down to the ground, but was very loath to 

Despair is loath dj e# He struggled hard, and had, as they say, as 
many lives as a cat; but Great-heart was his death, 
for he left him not till he had severed his head from his shoul- 
ders. 

Then they fell to demolishing Doubting Castle, that you know 

might with ease be done, since Giant Despair was 

Doubting Castle dead. They were seven days in destroying of that; 

demolished. and ^ < t of pi]grims they f oun d one Mr. Despon- 
dency, almost starved to death, and one Much-afraid, his daughter; 
these two they saved alive. But it would have made you a-wondered 
to have seen the dead bodies that lay here and there in the castle- 
yard, and how full of dead men's bones the dungeon was. 

When Mr. Great-heart and his companions had performed this 
exploit, they took Mr. Despondency, and his daughter Much-afraid, 
into their protection ; for they were honest people, though they were 
prisoners in Doubting Castle, to that tyrant Giant Despair. They, 
therefore, I say, took with them the head of the giant, for his body 
they had buried under a heap of stones, and down to the road and 
to their companions they came, and showed them what they had 
done. Now when Feeble-mind and Ready-to-halt saw that it was 
the head of Giant Despair indeed, they were very jocund and 
merry. Now Christiana, if need was, could play upon the viol, and 
her daughter Mercy upon the lute; so since they were 
Jncf y daiidri^ U for so merr Y disposed, she played them a lesson, and 
joy. ancing or Ready-to-halt would dance. So he took Despon- 
dency's daughter, named Much-afraid, by the hand, 
and to dancing they went in the road. True, he could not dance 
without one crutch in his hand; but, I promise you, he footed it 
well. Also the girl was to be commended, for she answered the 
music handsomely. 

As for Mr. Despondency, the music was not much to him; he was 
for feeding rather than dancing, for that he was almost starved. So 
Christiana gave him some of her bottle of spirits, for present relief, 



THE SHEPHERDS' WELCOME. 215 

and then prepared him something to eat; and, in a little time, the 
old gentleman came to himself, and began to be finely revived. 

Now I saw in my dream, when all these things were finished, Mr- 
Great- heart took the head of Giant Despair, and set it upon a pole 
by the highway side, right over against the pillar that Christian 
erected for a caution to pilgrims that came after, to take heed of 
entering into his grounds. 

" Though Doubting- Castle be demolished, 
And the Giant Despair hath lost his head, 
Sin can rebuild the Castle, make't remain, 
And make Despair the Giant live again." 

Then he writ under it, upon a marble stone, these verses following: — 

"'This is the head of him, whose name only 
In former times did pilgrims terrify. 
His Castle's down ; and Diffidence, his wife, 
Brave Master Great -heart has bereft of life. 
Despondency, his daughter Much-afraid, 
Great-heart for them also the man has play'd ; 
Who hereof doubts, if he'll but cast his eye 
Up hither, may his scruples satisfy : 
This head also, when doubting cripples dance, 
Doth show from fears they have deliverance." 

When these men had thus bravely showed themselves against 
Doubting Castle, and had slain Giant Despair, they went forward; 
and went on till they came to the Delectable Mountains, where 
Christian and Hopeful refreshed themselves with the varieties of the 
place. They also acquainted themselves with the Shepherds there, 
who welcomed them, as they had done Christian before, untq the 
Delectable Mountains. 

Now the Shepherds, seeing so great a train follow Mr. Great- 
heart, for with him they were well acquainted, they said unto him, 
Good Sir, you have got a goodly company here. Pray where did 
you find all these ? 

Then Mr. Great-heart replied — 

" First, here is Christiana and her train, 
Her sons, and her sons' wives, who like the wain, 
Keep by the pole, and do by compass steer, 
From sin to grace, else they had not been here ; 
Next, here's old Honest come on pilgrimage, 
Ready-to-halt, too, who, I dare engage 
True-hearted is, and so is Feeble-mind, 
"Who willing was not to be left behind ; 
Despondency, good man. is coming after, 
And so also is Much-afraid, his daughter. 
May we have entertainment here, or must 
We further go? Let's know whereon to trust." 

Then said the Shepherds, This is a comfortable company. You 
are welcome to us, for we have comfort for the feeble as for the 



216 HOW THE KING RECEIVES THE WEAK. 

strong. Our Prince has an eye to what is done to the least of these; 
therefore infirmity must not be a block to our entertainment.* So 
they had them to the palace door, and then said unto them, Come in, 
Mr. Feeble-mind; Come in, Mr. Ready-to-halt; Come in, Mr. De- 
spondency, and Mrs. Much-afraid, his daughter. These, Mr. Great- 
heart, said the Shepherds to the guide, we call in by name, for that 
they are most subject to draw back; but as for you, and the rest that 
are strong, we leave you to your wonted liberty. Then said Mr. 
Great-heart, This day f see that grace doth shine in your faces, and 
that you are my Lord's shepherds indeed; for that you have not 
pushed these diseased neither with side nor shoulder, but have rather 
strewed their way into the palace with flowers, as you should. t 

So the feeble and weak went in, and Mr. Great-heart and the rest 
did follow. When they were also set down, the Shepherds said to 
those of the weaker sort, What is it that you would have ? for, said 
they, all things must be managed here to the supporting of the weak, 
as well as the warning of the unruly. 

So they made them a feast of things easy of digestion, and that 
were pleasant to the palate, and nourishing; the which, when they 
had received, they went to their rest, each one respectively unto his 
proper place. When morning was come, because the mountains 
were high, and the day clear, and because it was the custom of the 
Shepherds to show to the Pilgrims, before their departure, some rari- 
ties; therefore, after they were ready, and had refreshed themselves, 
the Shepherds took them out into the fields, and showed them first 
what they had showed to Christian before. 

Then they had them to some new places. The first was to Mount 
Marvel, where they looked, and beheld a man at a distance, that 
tumbled the hills about with words. Then they asked the Shepherds 
what that should mean ? So they told them, that that man was the 
son of one Great-grace, of whom you read in the First Part of the 
Records of the Pilgrim's Progress. And he is set there to teach pil- 
grims how to believe down, or to tumble out of their way, what 
difficulties they shall meet with, by faith. % Then said Mr. Great- 
heart, I know him. He is a man above many. 

Then they had them to another place, called Mount Innocent; 
and there they saw a man clothed all in white, and two men, Preju- 
dice and Ill-will, continually casting dirt upon him. Now, behold, 
the dirt, whatsoever they cast at him, would in little time fall ofT 
again, and his garments would look as clear as if no dirt had been cast 
thereat. 

Then said the Pilgrims, What means this? The Shepherds an- 

* Matt. xxv. 40. t Ezek. xxxiv. 21. % Mark xi. 23, 24. 



WASHING THE ETHIOPIAN WHITE. 217 

swered, This man is named Godly-man, and this garment is to show 
the innocency of his life. Now, those that throw dirt at him, are 
such as hate his well-doing; but, as you see the dirt will not stick 
upon his clothes, so it shall be with him that liveth truly innocently 
in the world. Whoever they be that would make such men dirty, 
they labour all in vain; for God, by that a little time is spent, will 
cause that their innocence shall break forth as the light, and their 
righteousness as the noon-day. 

Then they took them, and had them to Mount Charity, where 
they showed them a man that had a bundle of cloth lying before 
him, out of which he cut coats and garments for the poor that stood 
about him ; yet his bundle or roll of cloth was never the less. 

Then said they, What should this be? This is, said the Shep- 
herds, to show you, that he that has a heart to give of his labour to 
the poor, shall never want wherewithal. He that watereth shall be 
watered himself. And the cake that the widow gave to the prophet 
did not cause that she had ever the less in her barrel. 

They had them also to a place where they saw one Fool, and one 
Want-wit, washing of an Ethiopian, with intention to make him 
white; but the more they washed him the blacker he was. They then 
asked the Shepherds what that should mean. So they told them, 
saying, Thus shall it be with the vile person. All means used to get 
such a one a good name shall, in conclusion, tend but to make him 
more abominable. Thus it was with the Pharisees, and so shall it 
be with all hypocrites. 

Then said Mercy, the wife of Matthew, to Christiana, her mother, 
Mother, I would, if it might be, see the hole in the hill, or that 
commonly called the by-way to hell. So her mother brake her mind 
to the Shepherds. Then they went to the door. It was in the side 
of a hill, and they opened it, and bid Mercy hearken awhile. So she 
hearkened, and heard one saying, Cursed be my father, for holding 
of my feet back from the way of peace and life; and another said, 
O that I had been torn in pieces, before I had, to save my life, 
lost my soul! and another said, If I were to live again, how would I 
deny myself, rather than come to this place ! Then there was as if 
the very earth had groaned and quaked under the feet of this young 
woman for fear. So she looked white, and came trembling away, 
saying, Blessed be he and she that are delivered from this place. 

Now when the Shepherds had shown them all these things, then 
they had them back to the palace, and entertained them with what 
the house would afford. But Mercy being a young and breeding 
woman, longed for something that she saw there, but was ashamed 
to ask. Her mother-in-law then asked her what she ailed; for she 



218 THE WONDERFUL MIRROR. 

looked as one not well. Then said Mercy, There is a looking-glass 
hangs up in the dining-room, off which I cannot take my mind: if, 
therefore, I have it not, I think I shall miscarry. Then said her 
mother, I will mention thy wants to the Shepherds, and they will 
not deny it thee. But she said, I am ashamed that these men should 
know that I longed. Nay, my daughter, said she, it is no shame 
but a virtue, to long for such a thing as that. So Mercy said, Then, 
mother, if you please, ask the Shepherds if they are willing to sell it. 

Now the glass was one of a thousand. It would present a man, 
one way, with his own features exactly;* and, turn it but another 
way, and it would show one the very face and similitude of the 
Prince of Pilgrims himself. t Yea, I have talked with them that can 
tell, and they have said that they have seen the very crown of thorns 
upon his head, by looking in that glass; they have therein also seen 
the holes in his hands, in his feet, and his side.J Yea, such an excel- 
lency is there in that glass, that it will show him to one where they 
have a mind to see him; whether living or dead; whether in earth or 
heaven; whether in a state of humiliation, or in his exaltation; whe- 
ther coming to suffer, or coming to reign. 

Christiana, therefore, went to the Shepherds apart — now the names 
of the Shepherds are Knowledge, Experience, Watchful, and Sin- 
cere — and said unto them, There is one of my daughters, a breeding 
woman, that I think doth long for something that she hath seen in 
this house ; and she thinks she shall miscarry, if she shall by you be 
denied. 

Experience. Call her, call her ; she shall assuredly have what 
we can help her to. So they called her, and said to her, Mercy, 
what is that thing thou wouldst have? Then she blushed, and said, 
The great glass that hangs up in the dining-room. So Sincere ran 
and fetched it, and, with a joyful consent, it was given her. Then 
she bowed her head, and gave thanks, and said, By this I know that 
I have obtained favour in your eyes. 

They also gave to the other young women such things as they de- 
sired, and to their husbands great commendations, for that they had 
joined with Mr. Great-heart, to the slaying of Giant Despair, and the 
demolishing of Doubting Castle. 

About Christiana's neck, the Shepherds put a bracelet, and so they 
did about the necks of her four daughters ; also they put ear-rings in 
their ears, and jewels on their foreheads. 

When they were minded to go hence, they let them go in peace, 
but gave not to them those certain cautions which before were given 
to Christian and his companion. The reason was for that these had 

* Jas. i. 23. t 1 Cor. xiti. 12. % 2 Cor. iii. 18. 



THE Y MEE T VALIANT-FOR- TR VTH. 219 

Great-heart to be their guide, who was one that was well acquainted 
with things, and so could give them their cautions more seasonably ; 
to wit, even then when the danger was nigh the approaching. 

What cautions Christian and his companion had received of the 
Shepherds, they had also lost, by that the time was come that they 
had need to put them in practice. Wherefore, here was the advan- 
tage that this company had over the other. 

From hence they went on singing, and they said — 

" Behold, how fitly are the stages set 
For their relief that pilgrims are become ! 
And how they us receive without one let, 
That makes the other life our mark and home! 

" What novelties they have to us they give, 
That we, though Pilgrims, joyful lives may live; 
They do upon us. too, such things bestow, 
That show we Pilgrims are, where'er we go." 

When they were gone from the Shepherds, they quickly came to 
the place where Christian met with one Turn-away, that dwelt in the 
town of Apostasy. Wherefore of him Mr. Great -heart, their guide, 
did now put them in mind, saying, This is the place where Christian 
met with one Turn-away, who carried with him the character of his 
rebellion at his back. And this I have to say concerning this man ; 
he would hearken to no counsel ; but, once falling, persuasion could 
not stop him. 

When he came to the place where the Cross and the Sepulchre 
were, he did meet with one that did bid him look there, but he 
gnashed with his teeth, and stamped, and said, he was resolved to 
go back to his own town. Before he came to the gate, he met with 
Evangelist, who offered to lay hands on him, to turn him into the 
way again. But this Turn-away resisted him, and having done 
much despite unto him, he got away over the wall, and so escaped 
his hand.* 

Then they went on ; and just at the place where Little-faith for- 
merly was robbed, there stood a man with his sword drawn, and his 
face all bloody. Then said Mr. Great-heart, What art thou? The 
man made answer, saying, I am one whose name is Valiant-for-truth. 
I am a pilgrim, and am going to the Celestial City. Now, as I was 
in my way, there were three men did beset me ai\d propounded unto 
me these three things : 1. Whether I would become one of them. 
2. Or go back from whence I came. 3. Or die upon the place. To 
the first I answered, I had been a true man a long season, and there- 
fore it could not be expected that I now should cast in my lot with 
thieves, t Then they demanded what I would say to the second. So 

* Heb. x. 26—29. t Prov. i. 10—14. 



220 THE CHAMPION'S S WORD. 

I told them that the place from whence I came, had I not found in- 
commodity there, I had not forsaken it at all ; but finding it alto- 
gether unsuitable to me, and very unprofitable for me, I forsook it 
for this way. Then they asked me what 1 said to the third. And I 
told them, My life cost more dear far, than that I should lightly give 
it away. Besides, you have nothing to do thus to put things to my 
choice ; wherefore at your peril be it if you meddle. Then these 
three, to wit, Wild-head, Inconsiderate, and Pragmatic, drew upon 
me, and I also drew upon them. 

So we fell to it, one against three, for the space of above three 
hours. They have left upon me, as you see, some of the marks of their 
valour, and have also carried away with them some of mine. They 
are but just now gone. I suppose they might, as the saying is, hear 
your horse dash, and so they betook them to flight. 

Great-heart. But here was great odds, three against one. 
Valiant. It is true ; but little or more are nothing to him that 
has the truth on his side. "Though an host should encamp against 
me," said one, "my heart shall not fear; though war should rise 
against me, in this will I be confident."* Besides, saith he, I have 
read in some records, that one man has fought an army. And how 
many did Samson slay with the jaw-bone of an ass !t 

Great-heart. Then said the guide, Why did you not cry out, 
that some might have come in for your succour? 

Valiant. So I did, to my King, who, I knew, could hear, and 
afford invisible help, and that was sufficient for me. 

Great-heart. Then said Great-heart to Mr. Valiant-for-truth, 
Thou hast worthily behaved thyself. Let me see thy sword. So he 
showed it him. When he had taken it in his hand, and looked 
thereon a while, he said, Ha ! it is a right Jerusalem blade.J 

Valiant. It is so. Let a man have one of these blades, with a 
hand to wield it and skill to use it, and he may venture upon an 
angel with it. He need not fear its holding, if he can but tell how 
to lay on. Its edges will never blunt. It will cut flesh and bones, 
and soul and spirit, and all.f 

Great-heart. But you fought a great while ; I wonder you was 
not weary. 

Valiant. I fought till my sword did cleave to my hand ; and 
when they were joined together, as if a sword grew out of my arm, 
and when the blood ran through my fingers, then 1 fought with most 
courage. || 

Great-heart. Thou hast done well. Thou hast " resisted unto 

* Psa. xxvii. 3. + Judg. xv. 15, 16. t Isa. ii. 3. 

$ Eph. vi. 12—17 ; Heb. iv. \z. 2 Sain, xxiii. 10. 



THE ENTRANCE GA TE. 221 

blood, striving against sin." Thou shalt abide by us, come in and 
go out with us, for we are thy companions. 

Then they took him, and washed his wounds, and gave him of 
what they had to refresh him ; and so they went on together. Now, 
as they went on, because Mr. Great-heart was delighted in him, for 
he loved one greatly that he found to be a man of his hands, and 
because there were with his company them that were feeble and weak, 
therefore he questioned with him about many things ; as, first, what 
countryman he was ? 

Valiant. I am of Dark-land ; for there I was born, and there my 
father and mother are still. 

Great-heart. Dark-land, said the guide ; doth not that lie upon 
the same coast with the City of Destruction ? 

Valiant. Yes, it doth. Now that which caused me to come on 
pilgrimage was this : we had one Mr. Tell-true came into our parts, 
and he told it about what Christian had done, that went from the 
City of Destruction ; namely, how he had forsaken his wife and 
children, and had betaken himself to a pilgrim's life. It was also 
confidently reported, how he had killed a serpent that did come out 
to resist him in his journey, and how he got through to whither he 
intended. It was also told, what welcome he had at all his Lord's 
lodgings, especially when he came to the gates of the Celestial City ; 
for there, said the man, he was received, with sound of trumpet, by 
a company of Shining Ones. He told it also, how all the bells in the 
city did ring for joy at his reception, and what golden garments he 
was clothed with, with many other things that now I shall forbear to 
relate. In a word, that man so told the story of Christian and his 
travels, that my heart fell into a burning haste to be gone after him, 
nor could father or mother stay me ! So I got from them, and came 
thus far on my way. 

Great-heart. You came in at the gate, did you not ? 

Valiant. Yes, yes ; for the same man also told us that all would 
be nothing, if we did not begin to enter this way at the gate. 

Great-heart. Look you, said the guide to Christiana, the pil- 
grimage of your husband, and what he has gotten thereby, is spread 
abroad far and near. 

Valiant. Why, is this Christian's wife ? 

Great-heart. Yes, that it is ; and these are also her four sons. 

Valiant. What! and going on pilgrimage too? 

Great-heart. Yes, verily, they are following after. 

Valiant. It gladdens me at heart. Good man ! how joyful will 
he be when he shall see them that would not go with him, yet to 
enter after him in at the gates into the city. 



222 RE COGNITION OF EA CH O THER IN HE A VEN. 

Great-heart. Without doubt it will be a comfort to him ; for, 
next to the joy of seeing himself there, it will be a joy to meet there 
his wife and children. 

Valiant. But, now you are upon that, pray let me hear your 
opinion about it. Some make a question, Whether we shall know 
one another when we are there. 

Great-Heart. Do they think they shall know themselves then, 
or that they shall rejoice to see themselves in that bliss? and if they 
think they shall know and do these, why not know others, and re- 
joice in their welfare also ? 

Again, since relations are our second self, though that state will 
be dissolved there ; yet why may it not be rationally concluded that 
we shall be more glad to see them there, than to see they are wanting? 

Valiant. Well, I perceive whereabouts you are as to this. Have 
you any more things to ask me about my beginning to come on pil- 
grimage? 

Great-Heart. Yes. Was your father and mother willing that 
you should become a pilgrim? 

Valiant. Oh no! They used all means imaginable to persuade 
me to stay at home. 

Great-heart. What could they say against it ? 

Valiant. They said it was an idle life; and if I myself were not 
inclined to sloth and laziness, I would never countenance a pilgrim's 
condition. 

Great-heart. And what did they say else ? 

Valiant. Why, they told me that it was a dangerous way; yea, the 
most dangerous way in the world, said they, is that which the pil- 
grims go. 

Great-heart. Did they show wherein this way is so dangerous? 

Valiant. Yes; and that in many particulars. 

Great-heart. Name some of them. 

Valiant. They told me of the Slough of Despond, where Chris- 
tian was well nigh smothered. They told me that there were 
archers standing ready in Beelzebub's Castle, to shoot them that 
should knock at the wicket-gate for entrance. They told me also of 
the wood, and dark mountains; of the Hill Difficulty; of the lions; 
and also of the three giants, Bloody-man, Maul, and Slay-good. 
They said, moreover, that there was a foul fiend haunted the Valley 
of Humiliation, and that Christian was by him almost bereft of life. 
Besides, said they, you must go over the Valley of the Shadow of 
Death, where the hobgoblins are; where the light is darkness; where 
the way is full of snares, pits, traps, and gins. They told me also of 
Giant Despair, of Doubting Castle, and of the ruin that the Pil- 



FAITH VICTORIOUS OVER RUMOURS. 223 

grims met with there. Further, they said I must go over the Enchanted 
Ground, which was dangerous. And that, after all this, I should find 
a river, over which 1 should find no bridge, and that that river did 
lie betwixt me and the Celestial Country. 

Great-heart. And was this all? 

Valiant. No. They also told me that this way was full of de- 
ceivers, and of persons that laid in wait there, to turn good men out 
of the path. 

Great-heart. But how did they make that out? 

Valiant. They told me that Mr. Worldly- Wise-Man did there lie 
in wait to deceive. They also said, that there was Formality and 
Hypocrisy continually on the road. They said, also, that By-ends, 
Talkative, or Demas would go near to gather me up; that the Flat- 
terer would catch me in his net ; or that, with green-headed 
Ignorance, I would presume to go on to the gate, from whence he 
always was sent back to the hole that was in the side of the hill, and 
made to go the by-way to hell. 

Great-heart. I promise you this was enough to discourage; 
but did they make an end here ? 

Valiant. No; stay. They told me also of many that had tried 
that way of old, and that had gone a great way therein, to see if 
they could find something of the glory there, that so many had so 
much talked of from time to time; and how they came back again, 
and befooled themselves for setting a foot out of doors in that path, 
to the satisfaction of all the country. And they named several that 
did so; as Obstinate and Pliable, Mistrust and Timorous, Turn-away 
and old Atheist, with several more, who, they said, had some of them 
gone far, to see if they could find; but not one of them found so 
much advantage by going as amounted to the- weight of a feather. 

Great-heart. Said they anything more to discourage you? 

Valiant. Yes. They told me of one Mr. Fearing, who was a 
pilgrim; and how he found this way so solitary, that he never had a 
comfortable hour therein. Also, that Mr. Despondency had like to 
have been starved therein; yea, and also, which I had almost forgot, 
that Christian himself, about whom there has been such a noise, 
after all his ventures for a celestial crown, was certainly drowned 
in the Black River, and never went foot further, however it was 
smothered up. 

Great-heart. And did none of these things discourage you ? 

Valiant. No; they seemed but as so many nothings to me. 

Great-heart. How came that about? 

Valiant. Why, I still believed what Mr. Tell-true had said, and 
that carried me beyond them all. 



224 



THE ENCHANTED GROUND. 



Great-heart. Then this was your victory, even your faith. 

Valiant. It was so. I believed, and therefore came out, got into 
the way, fought all that set themselves against me, and, by believing, 
am come to this place. 

" Who would true valour see, 
Let him come hither; 
One here will constant be. 
Come wind, come weather. 

" There's no discouragement 
Shall make him once relent 
His first avowed intent 
To be a pilgrim. 

" Who so beset him round 
With dismal stories, 
Do but themselves confound,— 
His strength the more is ; 

" No lion can him fright, 
He'll with a giant fight ; 
But he will have a right 
To be a pilgrim. 

" Hobgoblin nor foul fiend 
Can daunt his spirit ; 
He knows he at the end 
Shall life inherit. 

•• Then fancies fly away, 
He'll fear not what men say; 
He'll labour night and day 
To be a pilgrim." 

By this time they were got to the Enchanted Ground, where the 
air naturally tended to make one drowsy; and that place was all 
grown" over with briars and thorns, excepting here and there, where 
was an Enchanted Arbour, upon which, if a man sits, or in which, 
if a man sleeps, it is a question, say some, whether ever he shall rise 
or wake again in this world. Over this forest, therefore, they went, 
both one and the other, and Mr. Great-heart went before, for that he 
was the guide; and Mr. Valiant-for-truth, he came behind, being 
there a guard, for fear, lest peradventure some fiend, or dragon, or 
giant, or thief, should fall upon their rear, and so do mischief. 
They went on here, each man with his sword drawn in his hand, for 
they knew it was a dangerous place. Also they cheered up one an- 
other as well as they could ; Feeble-mind, Mr. Great-heart com- 
manded, should come up after him, and Mr. Despondency was under 
the eye of Mr. Valiant. 

Now they had not gone far, but a great mist and darkness fell 
upon them all, so that they could scarce, for a great while, see the 




THE LAND OF BEULAH. P. 2^0. 



THE DIFFICULT WAY. 225 

tie the other; wherefore they were forced, for some time, to feel for 
ae another by words; for they walked not by sight. 
But any one must think that here was but sorry going for the best 
them all; but how much worse for the women and children, who 

! oth of feet and heart were but tender. Yet so it was, that through 
e encouraging words of him that led in the front, and of him that 
■ought them up behind, they made a pretty good shift to wag 

I ong. 
The way also was here very wearisome, through dirt and slabbi- 
:ss. Nor was there on all this ground so much as one inn or 
:tualling-house, therein to refresh the feebler sort. Here, there- 
re, was grunting, and puffing, and sighing. While one tumbleth 
er a bush, another sticks fast in the dirt; and the children, some 
them, lost their shoes in the mire. While one cries out, I am 
iwn; and another, Ho! where are you? and a third, The bushes 
.ve got such fast hold on me, I think I cannot get away from 
em. 

Then they come at an arbour, warm, and promising much re- 
shing to the Pilgrims; for it was finely wrought above head, beau- 
ed with greens, furnished with benches and settles. It also had in 
a soft couch, whereon the weary might lean. This, you must 

. nk, all things considered, was tempting; for the Pilgrims already 
s^an to be foiled with the badness of the way; but there was not 
le of them that made so much as a motion to stop there. Yea, for 
ght I could perceive, they continually gave so good heed to the 
vice of their guide, and he did so faithfully tell them of dangers, 
d of the nature of dangers, when they were at them, that usually, 

I : en they were nearest to them, they did most pluck up their spirits, 
1 hearten one another to deny the flesh. This arbour was called 

The Slothful's Friend, on purpose to allure, if it might be, some of 
1 Pilgrims there to take up their rest when weary. 
I saw then in my dream, that they went on in this their solitary 
)und, till they came to a place at which a man is _, .._. . 

i. 1 -U- tvt ii. i_ r. -j. v 1 j. The way difficult 

: to lose his way. Now, though when it was light, to find. 

dr guide could well enough tell how to miss those 

ys that led wrong, yet in the dark he was put to a stand; but he 

had in his pocket a map of all ways leading to or from the Celestial 

Lily: wherefore he struck a light, for he never goes, also, without 

M tinder-box, and takes a view of his book or map, which bids him 

I careful, in that place, to turn to the right-hand way. And had he 

I not here been careful to look in his map, they had all] in probability, 

m smothered in the mud; for just a little before them, and that at 

Q 



226 THE TWO SLEEPERS. 

the end of the cleanest way, too, was a pit, none knows how deep, 
full of nothing but mud, there made on purpose to destroy the 
Pilgrims in. 

Then thought I with myself, who that goeth on 

God's Book. pilgrimage, but would have one of these maps about 
him, that he may look when he is at a stand, which is the way he 
must take. 

They went on, then, in this Enchanted Ground, till they came to 
where there was another arbour, and it was built by the highway side. 
And in that arbour there lay two men, whose names were Heedless 
and Too-bold. These two went thus far on pilgrimage; but here, 
being wearied with their journey, they sat down to rest themselves, 
and so fell fast asleep. When the Pilgrims saw them, they stood 
still, and shook their heads; for they knew that the sleepers were in 
a pitiful case. Then they consulted what to do, whether to go on 
and leave them in their sleep, or to step to them, and try to awake 
them. So they concluded to go to them, and awake them; that is, if 
they could; but with this caution, namely, to take heed that 
themselves did not sit down nor embrace the offered benefit of 
that arbour. -_*j 

So they went in, and spake to the men, and called each by his 
name, for the guide, it seems, did know them; but there was no 
voice nor answer. Then the guide did shake them, and do what he 
could to disturb them. Then said one of them, I will pay you when 
I take my money. At which the guide shook his head. I will fight 
so long as I can hold my sword in my hand, said the other. At 
that one of the children laughed. 

Then said Christiana, What is the meaning of this? The guide 
said, They talk in their sleep. If you strike them, beat them, or 
whatever else you do to them, they will answer you after this fashion; 
or, as one of them said in old time, when the waves of the sea^ did 
beat upon him, and he slept as one upon the mast of a ship, ' ' When 
shall I awake? I will seek it yet again."* You know when men 
talk in their sleep they say anything, but their words are not go- 
verned either by faith or reason. There is an incoherency in their 
words now, as there was before, betwixt their going on pilgrimage 
and sitting down here. This, then, is the mischief of it, when heed- 
less ones go on pilgrimage, it is twenty to one but they are served 
thus; for this Enchanted Ground is one of the last refuges, that the 
enemy to pilgrims has. Wherefore it is, as you see, placed almost 
at the end of the way, and so it standeth against us with the more 

* Prov. xxiii. 34, 35. 



S TAND-FAST PR A YING. 227 

advantage. For when thinks the enemy, will these fools be so de- 
sirous to sit down as when they are weary? and when so like to be 
weary, as when almost at their journey's end? Therefore it is, I 
say, that the Enchanted Ground is placed so . nigh to the Land 
Beulah, and so near the end of their race. Wherefore, let pilgrims 
look to themselves, lest it happen to them as it has done to these, 
that, as you see, are fallen asleep, and none can wake them. 

Then the Pilgrims desired, with trembling, to go forward; only 
they prayed their guide to strike a light, that they 
might go the rest of their way by the help of the The ^ ht d of the 
light of a lantern. So he struck a light, and they 
w r ent by the help of that through the rest of this way, though the 
darkness was very great.* 

But the children began to be sorely weary; and they cried out unto 
Him that loveth pilgrims, to make their way more comfortable. So 
by that they had gone a little further, a wind arose that drove away 
the fog; so the air became more clear. 

Yet they were not off, by much, of the Enchanted Ground, only 
now they could see one another better, and the way wherein they 
should walk. 

Now, when they were almost at the end of this ground, they per- 
ceived that, a little before them, was a solemn noise of one that was 
much concerned. So they went on and looked before them; and 
behold they saw, as they thought, a man upon his knees, with hands 
and eyes lift up, and speaking, as they thought, earnestly to one that 
was above. They drew nigh, but could not tell what he said. So 
they went softly till he had done. When he had done, he got up, 
and began to run towards the Celestial City. Then Mr. Great-heart 
called after him, saying, Soho ! friend, let us have your company, if 
you go, as I suppose you do, to the Celestial City. So the man 
stopped, and they came up to him. But so soon as Mr. Honest saw 
him, he said, I know this man. Then said Mr. Valiant-for-truth, 
Prithee, who is it? It is one, said he, who comes from where- 
abouts I dwelt. His name is Stand-fast ; he is certainly a right good 
Pilgrim. 

So they came up one to another; and presently Stand-fast said to 
old Honest, Ho ! father Honest, are you there? Ay, said he, that 
I am, as sure as you are there. Right glad am I, said Mr. Stand- 
fast, that I have found you on this road. And as glad am I, said 
the other, that I espied you upon your knees. Then Mr. Stand-fast 
blushed, and said, But why, did you see me ? Yes, that I did, quoth 
* 2 Pet. i. 19. 

Q2 



228 HOW TO ESCAPE TEMPTATION. 

the other, and with my heart was glad at the sight. Why, what 
did you think ? said Stand-fast. Think ! said old Honest, what should 
I think? I thought we had an honest man upon the road, and there- 
fore should have his company by-and-by. If you thought not amiss, 
said Stand-fast, how happy am I; but if I be not as I should, I alone 
must bear it. That is true, said the other; but your fear doth further 
confirm me, that things are right betwixt the Prince of Pilgrims 
and your soul; for, saith be, " Blessed is the man that feareth 
always." 

Valiant. Well, but brother, I pray thee tell us what was it that 
was the cause of thy being upon thy knees even now ? Was it for 
that some special mercies laid obligations upon thee, or how ? 

Stand-fast. Why, we are, as you see, upon the Enchanted 

Ground; and as I was coming along, I was musing 

Whatit was that w j t h m y Se lf of what a dangerous road the road in this 

fetched him upon , J , , *»., . , , ., 

his knees. place was, and how many that had come even thus 

far on pilgrimage had here been stopped and been 
destroyed. I thought also of the manner of the death with which 
this place destroyeth men. Those that die here die of no violent 
distemper. The death which such die is not grievous to them; for 
he tha_t goeth away in a sleep, begins that journey with desire and 
pleasure; yea, such acquiesce in the will of that disease. 

Hon. Then Mr. Honest, interrupting of him, said, Did you see 
the two men asleep in the arbour ? 

Stand-fast. Ay, ay, I saw Heedless and Too-bold there; and, 
for aught I know, there they will lie till they rot.* But let me go on 
in my tale. As I was thus musing, as I said, there was one in very 
pleasant attire, but old, who presented herself unto me, and offered 
me three things; to wit, her body, her purse, and her bed. Now, 
the truth is, I was both a- weary and sleepy ; I am also as poor as an 
owlet, and that, perhaps, the witch knew. Well, I repulsed her 
once and twice, but she put by my repulses and smiled. Then I 
began to be angry; but she mattered that nothing at all. Then she 
made offers again, and said, If I would be ruled by her, she would 
make me great and happy; for, said she, I am the mistress of the 
world, and men are made happy by me. Then I 
< Madam Bubble, asked her name, and she told me it was Madam 

is this vain world. Rubble> This set me f urther f rom her : but SllC Still 

followed me with enticements. Then I betook me, as you saw, to 
my knees; and with hands lift up, and cries, I prayed to Him that 
had said He would help. So, just as you came up, the gentlewoman 

* Prov. x. 7. 



THE WORLD. 229 

went her way. Then I continued to give thanks for this my great 
deliverance; for I verily believe she intended no good, but rather 
sought to make stop of me in my journey. 

Hon. Without doubt her designs were bad. But stay, now you 
talk of her, methinks I either have seen her, or have read some story 
of her. 

Stand-fast. Perhaps you have done both. 

Hon. Madam Bubble ! is she not a tall, comely dame, something 
of a swarthy complexion ? 

Stand-fast. Right, you hit it, she is just such a one. 

Hon. Doth she not speak very smoothly, and give you a smile at 
the end of a sentence ? 

Stand-fast. You fall right upon it again, for these are her very 
actions. 

Hon. Doth she not wear a great purse by her side; and is not 
her hand often in it, fingering her money, as if that was her heart's 
delight ? 

Stand-fast. It is just so; had she stood by all this while, you 
could not more amply have set her forth before me, nor have better 
described her features. 

Hon. Then he that drew her picture was a good limner, and he 
that wrote of her said true. 

Great-heart. This woman is a witch, and it is by virtue of her 
sorceries that this ground is enchanted. Whoever . w ., 
doth lay their head down in her lap, had as good lay 
it down upon that block over which the axe doth hang; and whoever 
lay their eyes upon her beauty, are counted the enemies of God.* 
This is she that maintaineth in their splendour all those that are the 
enemies of pilgrims. Yea, this is she that hath bought off many a 
man from a pilgrim's life. She is a great gossiper; she is always, 
both she and her daughters, at one pilgrim's heels or another, now 
commending and then preferring the excellences of this life. She 
is a bold and impudent slut; she will talk with any man. She always 
laugheth poor pilgrims to scorn; but highly commends the rich. If 
there be one cunning to get money in a place, she will speak well of 
him from house to house; she lovethbanquetting and feasting mainly 
well; she is always at one full table or another. She has given it out 
in some places, that she is a goddess, and therefore some do worship 
her. She has her times and open places of cheating; and she will 
say and avow it, that none can show a good comparable to hers. 
She promiseth to dwell with children's children, if they will but love 

* James iv. 4; 1 John ii. 15. 



230 "STAND-FAST." 

and make much of her. She will cast out of her purse gold like dust 
in some places and to some persons. She loves to be sought after, 
spoken well of, and to lie in the bosoms of men. She is never weary 
of commending her commodities, and she loves them most that think 
best of her. She will promise to some crowns and kingdoms, if they 
will but take her advice; yet many hath she brought to the halter, 
and ten thousand times more to hell. 

Stand-fast. Oh, said Stand-fast, what a mercy is it that I did 
resist ! for whither might she have drawn me ! 

Great-heart. Whither ! nay, none but God knows whither. 
But, in general, to be sure, she would have drawn thee into ' ' many 
foolish and hurtful lusts, which drown men in destruction and per- 
dition."* 

It was she that set Absalom against his father, and Jeroboam 
against his master. It was she that persuaded Judas to sell his Lord, 
and that prevailed with Demas to forsake the godly pilgrims' life; 
none can tell of the mischief that she doth. She makes variance 
betwixt rulers and subjects, betwixt parents and children, betwixt 
neighbour and neighbour, betwixt a man and his wife, betwixt a man 
and himself, betwixt the flesh and the heart. 

Wherefore, good Master Stand-fast, be as your name is, and 
" when you have done all, Stand." 

At this discourse there was, among the Pilgrims, a mixture of joy 
and trembling; but at length they brake out, and sang — 

" What danger is the pilgrim in, 

How many are his foes ! 
How many ways there are to sin 

No living mortal knows. 

" Some of the ditch shy are, yet can 

Lie tumbling in the mire ; 
Some, though' they shun the frying-pan, 

Do leap into the fire." 

After this, I beheld until they were come unto the Land of Beulah, 
where the sun shineth night and day. Here, because they were 
weary, they betook themselves awhile to rest; and, because this 
country was common for pilgrims, and because the orchards and 
vineyards that were here belonged to the King of the Celestial 
Country, therefore they were licensed to make bold with any of his 
things. But a little while soon refreshed them here; for the bells did 
so ring, and the trumpets continually sound so melodiously, that they 
could not sleep; and yet they received as much refreshing as if they 
had slept their sleep ever so soundly. Here also all the noise of 

* i Tim. vi. 9. 



THE MESSAGE TO CHRISTIANA. 231 

them that walked in the streets was, More pilgrims are come to 
town. And another would answer, saying, And so many went over 
the water, and were let in at the golden gates to-day. They would 
cry again, There is now a legion of Shining Ones just come to town, 
by which we know that there are more pilgrims upon the road; for 
here they come to wait for them, and to comfort them after all their 
sorrow. Then the Pilgrims got up, and walked to and fro; but how 
were their ears now filled with heavenly noises, and their eyes de- 
lighted with celestial visions ! In this land they heard nothing, 
saw nothing, felt nothing, smelled nothing, tasted 
nothing, that was offensive to their stomach or mind ; th ^jg* fitter to 
only when they tasted of the water of the river over sweetto thesouL 
which they were to go, they thought that tasted a 
little bitterish to the palate, but it proved sweeter when it was 
down. 

In this place there was a record kept of the names of them that 
had been pilgrims oi old, and a history of all the 
famous acts that they had done. It was here also b ?f ath h ^ s fl its 
much discoursed, how the river to some had had its mgs^kethe tide] 
ilowings, and what ebbings it has had while others 
have gone over. It has been in a manner dry for some, while it has 
overflowed its banks for others. 

In this place the children of the town would go into the King's 
gardens, and gather nosegays for the Pilgrims, and bring them to 
them with much affection. Here also grew camphire, with spike- 
nard and saffron, calamus and cinnamon, with all its trees of frank- 
incense, myrrh, and aloes, with all chief spices. With these the 
Pilgrims' chambers were perfumed, while they staid here; and with 
these were their bodies anointed, to prepare them to go over the river 
when the time appointed was come. 

Now, while they lay here, and waited for the good hour, there was 
a noise in the town that there was a post come from the Celestial 
City with matter of great importance to one Christiana, the wife of 
Christian the Pilgrim. So inquiry was made for her, and the house 
was found out where she was; so the post presented her with a letter, 
the contents whereof were, " Hail, good woman ! I bring thee tidings 
that the Master calleth for thee, and expecteth that thou shouldest 
stand in his presence, in clothes of immortality, within these ten 
days." 

When he had read this letter to her, he gave her t How welcome 
therewith a sure token that he was a true messen- [h a ^ e i ath to Jf. em 
ger, and was come to bid her make haste to be gone, to do^ut todie? 5 



232 CHRISTIANA'S LAST WORDS. 

The token was an arrow with a point sharpened with love, let easily 
into her heart, which by degrees wrought so effectually with her, 
that at the time appointed she must be gone. 

When Christiana saw that her time was come, and that she was 
the first of this company that was to go over, she called for Mr. 
Great-heart her guide, and told him how matters were. So lie told 
her he was heartily glad of the news, and could have been glad had 
the post come for him. Then she bid that he should give advice how 
all things should be prepared for her journey. So he told her, say- 
ing, thus and thus it must be; and we that survive will accompany 
you to the river side. 

Then she called for her children, and gave them her blessing and 
told them, that she yet read with comfort the mark that was set in 
their foreheads, and was glad to see them with her there, and that 
they had kept their garments so white. Lastly, she bequeathed to 
the poor that little she had, and commanded her sons and her 
daughters to be ready against the messenger should come for them. 

When she had spoken these words to her guide and to her chil- 
dren, she called for Mr. Valiant-for-truth, and said unto him, Sir, 
you have in ail places showed yourself true-hearted; "be faithful 
unto death," and my King will give you "acrown of life." I would 
also entreat you to have an eye to my children; and if at any time 
you see them faint, speak comfortably to them. For my daughters, 
my sons' wives, they have been faithful, and a fulfilling of the pro- 
mise upon them will be their end. But she gave Mr. Stand-fast a 
ring. 

Then she called for old Mr. Honest, and said of him, "Behold 
an Israelite indeed, in whom is no guile." Then said he, I wish you 
a fair day when you set out for Mount Zion, and shall be glad to 
see that you go over the river dry-shod. But she answered, Come 
wet, come dry, I long to be gone; for, however the weather is in my 
journey, I shall have time enough when I come there to sit down and 
rest me and dry me. 

Then came in that good man Mr. Ready-to-halt to see her. So 
she said to him, Thy travel hither has been with difficulty; but that 
will make thy rest the sweeter. But watch and be ready; for at an 
hour when you think not the messenger may come. 

After him came in Mr. Despondency, and his daughter Much- 
afraid, to whom she said, You ought with thankfulness for ever to 
remember your deliverance from the hands of Giant Despair, and 
out of Doubting Castle. The effect of that mercy is, that you are 
brought with safety hither. Be ye watchful, and cast away fear; 
" be sober, and hope to the end." 




THE MESSENGER. P. 23I. 




CHRISTIAN^ BLLSSES HER CHILDREN. P. 2^2. 



CHRISTIANA DIES. 233 

Then she said to Mr. Feeble-mind, Thou wast delivered from the 
mouth of Giant Slay-good, that thou mightest live in the light of the 
living for ever, and see thy King with comfort ; only I advise thee 
to repent thee of thine aptness to fear and doubt of his goodness, 
before he sends for thee; lest thou shouldest, when he comes, be 
forced to stand before him, for that fault, with blushing. 

Now the day drew on that Christiana must be gone. So the road 
was full of people to see her take her journey. But, behold, all the 
banks beyond the river were full of horses and chariots, which were 
come down from above to accompany her to the city gate. So she 
came forth, and entered the river, with a beckon of farewell to those 
that followed her to the river side. The last words that she was 
heard to say here were, I come, Lord, to be with thee, and bless thee. 

So her children and friends returned to their place, for that those 
that waited for Christiana had carried her out of their sight. So she 
went and called, and entered in at the gate with all the ceremonies 
of joy that her husband Christian had done before her. 

At her departure her children wept; but Mr. Great-heart and Mr. 
Valiant played upon the well-tuned cymbal and harp for joy. So all 
departed to their respective places. 

In process of time there came a post to the town again, and his 
business was with Mr. Ready-to-halt. So he inquired him out, and 
said to him, I am come to thee in the name of Him whom thou hast 
loved and followed, though upon crutches; and my message is to tell 
thee, that He expects thee at his table to sup with him, in his king- 
dom, the next day after Easter; wherefore prepare thyself for this 
journey. 

Then he also gave him a token that he was a true messenger, say- 
ing, I have broken thy golden bowl, and loosed thy silver cord.* 

After this, Mr. Ready-to-halt called for his fellow-pilgrims, and 
told them, saying, I am sent for, and God shall surely visit you also. 
So he desired Mr. Valiant to make his will; and because he had 
nothing to bequeath to them that should survive him but his crutches 
and his good wishes, therefore thus he said, These crutches I be- 
queath to my son that shall tread in my steps, with a hundred warm 
wishes that he may prove better than I have done. 

Then he thanked Mr. Great -heart for his conduct and kindness, 
and so addressed himself to his journey. When he came at the 
brink of the river, he said, Now I shall have no more need of these 
crutches, since yonder are chariots and horses for me to ride on. 
The last, words he was heard to say was, Welcome life ! So he went 
his way. 

* Eccles. xii. 6. 



234 THE OTHER PILGRIMS FOLLOW. 

After this, Mr. Feeble-mind had tidings brought him, that the post 

Feeble-mind sounded his horn at his chamber-door. Then he came 

summoned. in, and told him, saying, I am come to tell thee that 
thy master hath need of thee; and that in very little 
time thou must behold his face in brightness. And take this as a 
token of the truth of my message, "Those that look out of the win- 
dows shall be darkened."* 

Then Mr. Feeble-mind called for his friends, and told them what 
errand had been brought unto him, and what token he had received 
of the truth of the message. Then he said, Since I have nothing to 
bequeath to any, to what purpose should I make a will? As for my 
feeble mind, that I will leave behind me, for that, I have no need of 
that in the place whither I go. Nor is it worth bestowing upon the 
poorest pilgrim; wherefore, when I am gone, I desire that you, Mr. 
Valiant, would bury it in a dunghill. This done, and the day being 
come in which he was to depart, he entered the river as the rest. 
His last words were, Hold out, faith and patience. So he went over 
to the other side. 

When days had many of them passed away Mr. Despondency 
was sent for; for a post was come, and brought this message to him: 
Trembling man, these are to summon thee to be ready with thy King 
by the next Lord's day, to shout for joy for thy deliverance from all 
thy doubtings. 

And, said the messenger, that my message is true, take this for a 
proof; so he gave him the grasshopper to be a burden unto him. f 
Now, Mr. Despondency's daughter, whose name was Much-afraid, 
said, when she heard what was done, that she would go with her 
father. Then Mr. Despondency said to his friends, Myself and my 
daughter, you know what we have been, and how troublesomely we 
have behaved ourselves in every company. My will and my daughter's 
is, that our desponds and slavish fears be by no man ever received, 
from tne day of our departure, for ever; for I know that after my death 
they will offer themselves to others. For, to be plain with you, they 
are ghosts the which we entertained when we first began to be pil- 
grims, and could never shake them off after; and they will walk about 
and seek entertainment of the pilgrims; but, for oursakes, shut ye the 
doors upon them. 

When the time was come for them to depart, they went to the 
brink of the river. The last words of Mr. Despondency were, Fare- 
well night, welcome day. His daughter went through the river sing- 
ing, but none could understand what she said. 

* Eccles. xii. 3. t Eccles. xii. 5. 



ME. HONEST MAKES NO WILL. 235 

Then it came to pass, a while after, that there was a post in the 
town that inquired for Mr. Honest. So he came to his house where 
he was, and delivered to his hand these lines : Thou art commanded 
to be ready against this day seven-night, to present thyself before thy 
Lord, at his Father's house. And for a token that my message is 
true, "All thy daughters of music shall be brought low."* Then 
Mr. Honest called for his friends, and said unto them, I die, but 
shall make no will. As for my honesty, it shall go with me ; let him 
that comes after be told of this. When the day that he was to be 
gone was come, he addressed himself to go over the river. Now the 
river at that time overflowed the banks in some places; 
but Mr. Honest in his lifetime had spoken to one h 2^ d M? n HoS 
Good-conscience to meet him there, the which he also over theriver. ne 
did, and lent him his hand, and so helped him over. 
The last words of Mr. Honest were, Grace reigns. So he left the 
world. 

After this it was noised abroad, that Mr. Valiant-for-truth was 
taken with a summons by the same post as the other ; and had 
this for a token that the summons was true, "That his pitcher 
was broken at the fountain, "f When he understood it, he called for 
his friends, and told them of it. Then, said he, I am going to my 
Father's ; and though with great difficulty I am got hither, yet now 
I do not repent me of all the trouble I have been at to arrive where 
I am. My sword I give to him that shall succeed me in my pil- 
grimage, and my courage and skill to him that can get it. My marks 
and scars I carry with me, to be a witness for me, that I have fought 
his battles who now will be my rewarder. When the day that he 
must go hence was come, many accompanied him to the river side, 
into which as he went he said, " Death, where is thy sting?" And 
as he went down deeper, he said, "Grave, where is thy victory?" 
So he passed over, and all the trumpets sounded for him on the other 
side. 

Then there came forth a summons for Mr. Stand-fast — this Mr. 
Stand-fast was he that the rest of the Pilgrims found upon his knees 
in the Enchanted Ground — for the post brought it him open in his 
hands. The contents whereof were, that he must prepare for a 
change of life, for his Master was not willing that he should be so 
far from him any longer. At this Mr. Stand-fast was put into a 
muse. Nay, said the messenger, you need not doubt the truth of 
my message, for here is a token of the truth thereof: "Thy wheel 
is broken at the cistern."! Then he called unto him Mr. Great-heart, 

* Eccles. xii. 4. t Eccles. xii. 6. % Eccles, xii. 6. 



236 THE CALM RIVER. 

who was their guide, and said unto him, Sir, although it was not my. 
hap to be much in your good company in the days of my pilgrimage: 
yet, since the time 1 knew you, you have been profitable to me. 
When I came from home, I left behind me a wife and five small 
children ; let me entreat you, at your return (for I know that you 
will go and return to your Master's house, in hopes that you may 
yet be a conductor to more of the holy pilgrims), that you send to 
my family, and let them be acquainted with all that hath or shall 
happen unto me. Tell them, moreover, of my happy arrival to this 
place, and of the present [and] late blessed condition that I am in. 
Tell them also of Christian, and Christiana his wife, and how she 
and her children came after her husband. Tell them also of what a 
happy end she made, and whither she has gone. I have little or no- 
thing to send to my family, except it be prayers and tears for them ; 
of which it will suffice if thou acquaint them, if peradventure they 
may prevail. 

When Mr. Stand-fast had thus set things in order, and the time 
being come for him to haste him away, he also went down to the 
river. Now there was a great calm at that time in the river; where- 
fore Mr. Stand-fast, when he was about half-way in, stood awhile, 
and talked to his companions that had waited upon him thither; and 
he said, This river has been a terror to many; yea, the thoughts of 
it also have often frightened me. Now, methinks, I stand easy, my 
foot is fixed upon that upon which the feet of the priests that bare 
the ark of the covenant stood, while Israel went over this Jordan.* 
The waters, indeed, are to the palate bitter, and to the stomach cold; 
yet the thoughts of what I am going to, and of the conduct that 
waits for me on the other side, doth lie as a glowing coal at my heart. 

I see myself now at the end of my journey, my toilsome days are 
ended. I am going now to see that head that was crowned with 
thorns, and that face that was spit upon for me. 

I have formerly lived by hearsay and faith; but now I go where I 
shall live by sight, and shall be with Him in whose company I de- 
light myself. 

I have loved to hear my Lord spoken of; and wherever I have 
seen the print of His shoe in the earth, there I have coveted to set 
my foot too. 

His namehas been to me as acivet-box; yea, sweeter than all perfumes. 
His voice to me has been most sweet; and His countenance I have 
more desired than they that have most desired the light of the sun. 
His word I did use to gather for my food, and for antidotes against 

* Jos. iii. 17. 



THE FINAL TRIUMPH. 237 

my faintings. " He has held me, and hath kept me from mine 
iniquities; yea, my steps hath he strengthened in his way." 

Now, while he was thus in discourse, his countenance changed, 
his strong man bowed under him; and after he had said, Take me, 
for I come unto Thee, he ceased to be seen of them. 

But glorious it was to see how the open region was filled with 
horses and chariots, with trumpeters and pipers, with singers and 
players on stringed instruments, to welcome the Pilgrims as they 
went up, and followed one another in at the beautiful gate of the 
city. 

As for Christian's children, the four boys that Christiana brought 
with her, with their wives and children, I did not stay where I was 
till they were gone over. Also, since I came away, I heard one say 
that they were yet alive, and so would be for the increase of the 
Church in that place where they were, for a time. 

Shall it be my lot to go that way again, I may give those that de- 
sire it an account of what I here am silent about. Meantime, I bid 
my reader 

Farewell. 



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